


By Far More Lucent

by Everlarked



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Evak - Freeform, Evak Smut, Evak love, Even and Isak, Even's POV, How Even meets Isak, Isak seen through Even's eyes, M/M, M/M Smut, Mental Health Issues, Season 3 in Even's POV, Skam Season 3, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:44:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlarked/pseuds/Everlarked
Summary: Even is 19 years old when he changes high school. He failed his senior year due to mental health problems. This is also the reason why he goes to a new school. His girlfriend, Sonja, did finish high school and she's taking a year off to wait for him to finish, too. So that they can go to university together next year. But on his first day in his new school he sees someone. And that someone changes everything.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: all the characters in this story belong to Skam. I own nothing.  
> This story has 13 chapters and an Epilogue. As it looks now I'll update 1 chapter a week. This story covers Skam season 3. Anything that happens in season 4 might not collaborate with this. I've written this entirely based on season 3. There will be chapters that contain explicit sexual content, so consider yourself warned.  
> A big thank you goes to my betas Marie-Louise, @papofglencoe, @ealamusings, @lana_holt, and @maxwellandlovelace for encouraging me with this and for being amazing in general.  
> If you want to follow me on tumblr, I will post teasers there: @finduilasnumenesse  
> <3

 

_This said I in the direction of the light_

_Which first had spoken to me; whence it became_

_By far more lucent than it was before._

\-        Dante, Paradiso

My name is Even Bech Nӕsheim. And this is my story.


	2. Angel

_Life_

_I wonder_

_Will it take me under_

_I don't know_

\-        Nas, If I Ruled World (Imagine That)

* * *

 

My name is Even Bech Nӕsheim. I’m nineteen years old. I live in Oslo, Norway. I have two parents and one sister. I used to have a dog. I’m tall, about 1,90m, my hair is blonde, my eyes pale blue. What else? There are so many things that are worth saying. I guess there’s a thousand things. I could talk about a million things.

First on the list: death.

The sweet release of death.

Did you know that when you die your soul will leave your body and soar through the sky to become one with the stars?

You don’t believe me?

Maybe it’ll be more like that cliché of the white tunnel with god waiting at the other side, welcoming you to heaven or sentencing you to hell.

Maybe it will be oblivion, to be wiped away from the earth. To forget and to be forgotten. Completely forgotten. I think that is the sweet release of death.

What about suicide?

I don’t really want to off myself. At least, I think I don’t want it. I’ve tried to commit suicide once in my life. (Twice, really, but I don't want to talk about the second time) So once, sort of. I was fifteen years old then and stole my mother’s bottle of Trazodone. I had no idea what I was doing, all I knew was that I wanted to stop feeling. I don’t think I really wanted to die. I took only a handful of them, not even enough to knock me out. But it was enough for my parents to have me hospitalized.

Then the tests came, and I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Being bipolar means I have a brain disorder that causes shifts in my mood and my energy. With manic episodes at one end of the spectrum and severe depressions at the other end.

Loneliness.

What about loneliness?

Everyone is alone in the end. Alone with your thoughts. You can try of course, try to communicate, to get others to understand. But I know that it is impossible in the end. No one can really understand, no one can reach into my mind and know the swirling trains of thoughts. The colours and the scents.

How can I make anyone understand that loneliness is purple, with a swirl of black and a touch of dark blue? The sky in winter. That it tastes like cumin cheese on a cracker.  

I wonder how much taste can relate to a certain feeling. Will I associate cumin cheese with loneliness forever?

I guess it started at my former school, Elvebakken. That was when I came to associate the scent and the taste of cumin cheese with loneliness. Sonja and I had a fight—she’d shouted at me, saying she was so sick of constantly looking after me. And I screamed back that I didn’t want her to look after me. Why couldn’t she see that?

She stalked away, and I was glad that she did. But I also felt completely incapable of communicating properly. I ate crackers with cumin cheese then.

I think at that point the neurons in my brains communicated with each other, telling me that cumin cheese is loneliness.

Enough about that.

What about music?

Music is life to me.

Music reaches into your soul and wrecks it from the inside out. Music is tears and laughter.

One day I was listening to a youtube playlist. It played numbers randomly, without me actively choosing them. There was this one song from NAS playing, featuring Puff Daddy: ‘If You Hate Me Now.’ I felt so much hate then, listening to that song. I felt I could explode from hatred.

Next was James Blunt, ‘Bonfire Heart’:

_Days like these lead to nights like this, leads to love like ours, you light a spark in my bonfire heart._

And I shouted along with the song. Feeling so happy. Those fucking cheesy lines, those sparks, I felt them enlighten me from the inside out.

Music can give me life and haunt me like that. Feeling hate and feeling pure bliss from one second to the next.

Enough about that. For now, that is. There’s never enough said about music.

Today is my first day at Hartvig Nissen School in West-Oslo. My mother’s pale blue eyes are filled with worry when she looks at me over the breakfast table. That look on her face is what’s keeping me from finding a way to off myself.

Last year I should have graduated together with Sonja. Did I say she’s my girlfriend? I failed at graduating, just like I fail at so many other things. What happened was that one day I decided to stop taking my meds. They made me feel so bland, so insipid. Everything happening in a daze, as if the world wasn’t real. I didn’t want to live a fake life.

Stopping the meds brought me into a manic episode that lasted quite a long time. I have a Muslim friend, Mikael, and I decided to learn to read the Quran in Arabic so I could talk religion with him. For hours and hours on end I sat at my desk in my room, the Quran in front of me, searching the internet for grammar rules and online dictionaries. I didn’t sleep for more than a week, and finally I had to be committed to the psych department of the hospital, too exhausted to speak but still unable to sleep. And I wanted to die.

I was so far behind on my stuff that I failed my exams. So this year I have to redo my final year of high school. Sonja graduated, and now she’s taking a year off. She’s waiting for me so we can go to university together next year. I wish she wouldn’t. I wish she’d stop hovering over me. Constantly worried that I’ll go manic again, or depressed. I know she loves me and that’s why she’s worried. But it’s not helping. I feel suffocated. Lately when I’m around her I have difficulty breathing.

She saved my life. Not literally, but she has been there through the past four years. When I first saw her I thought she was beautiful. And smart. And funny. And I guess she’s still all those things. She stood by me, she held my hand, she listened to me rambling on about stupid ideas. She even went hitchhiking with me to Stockholm when we were sixteen.  She took my shit then, but not so much anymore. I feel she knows me better than I know myself. She knows what’s good for me, and she never ceases to remind me that she does. It drives me crazy.

This year she has decided to wait for me. Which only puts so much more pressure on me. I wish she’d go away, off to college. Preferably in another country. Stockholm. Or Copenhagen would be fine—I love Denmark. I could visit her during school breaks. Maybe if we were apart from each other a little more I could breathe again and find my way back to her. I can’t break up with her, I can’t dump her, so I have to fall in love with her again.

How can I do that when she’s sitting on my couch waiting for me all the live long day?

So today is my first day at my new school. I’m glad that I know at least two people who go there so I won’t be completely surrounded by strangers who are all younger than me. There’s Nova, whom I met in a club a few years ago and who is friends with Sonja. And Ansgard, a friend of mine who lives close by and goes to Hartvig Nissen as well. He’s my age and my one true source for pot. He knows people who know people—you know how it goes.

I’m not supposed to smoke pot because it triggers manic episodes. I smoke it anyway, once in awhile. With Ansgard in his room. I always brush my teeth and put on clean clothes afterwards because Sonja gives me hell when she knows I’m smoking.

“It’s not good for you,” she always says in that condescending manner. Like I don’t know that. Give me a break already. Sonja acts as if she knows everything about me. She doesn’t know everything about me.

I’m listening to Nas on my way to school. “If I Ruled the World (Imagine That)”.

_Days are shorter, nights are colder_

_Feeling like life is over, these snakes strike like a cobra._

Snakes strike like a cobra. I wonder how it would feel to be bitten by a cobra. Instant death, probably. It would be so easy. But life never is, and there are no cobras in Norway. Maybe in the zoo, but they’re behind glass. I could try to break in the zoo one night and see if I could get myself into a tank with a cobra. Would it instantly bite me and kill me? Or would it play with me, let me think I’d still stand a chance against it. I wonder if that sort of imminent danger will bring forth a will to live inside of me. Like something primal, evolutionary. Man’s need to survive, stronger than my will to die.

I’ve reached the school yard and am relieved to see Ansgard standing against the wall of the school, talking with two guys. I approach them, forcing myself to smile. “Hello.”

Ansgard looks up and raises a hand in greeting, “Hi, Even. Good to see you, man. Meet my bros.”

He points to the guys standing next to him. One blonde with blue eyes and the other dark eyes and short, brown hair. “This is Jon, and this ugly guy here is Thor. Guys, meet Even.”

The blonde guy shakes my hand. “Jon.”

“Even,” I say and turn my attention to the other boy. “So you’re Thor, huh? If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re ugly.”

“Thanks,” Thor says, grinning and rolling his eyes at me.

“You’re welcome,” I reply as I go to stand next to Ansgard, leaning against the wall. He hands me a cigarette.

“No jay in school,” he says as he lights the smoke for me.

The square is filled with teenagers standing in small groups. Some shouting, some laughing. Some huddled close together. I take a deep breath as I stare off in the middle distance, wondering how to get through today. Maybe I should ditch classes and go to the zoo, find that cobra.

Ansgard asks me which class I have first.

“Norwegian,” I reply.

“Me too,” says Thor, and he launches into a story about Miss Pedersen, the Norwegian teacher. I try to listen to what he says, but my mind wanders off.

I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that makes me look up.

Is it fate?

Or pure coincidence?

Or is it his heartbeat that beats the rhythm of my life? Even though he’s standing far away from me, and I can’t hear his heartbeat, somehow I know he’s there. Not even knowing who he is, but knowing that this person…

That this person is…

I look up, and I see him.

That this person is by far the most beautiful creature in the whole world.

His hair is golden, slightly curling around his ears. He has dark eyebrows and dark eyes. He’s too far away to catch their exact colour. I’m staring, I know I am, but I can’t help myself. Everything about him intrigues me, captivates me. His angular cheekbones, his lips, the way he smiles while he talks with his friends. That smile. Those curved lines in his cheeks when he smiles. The cute chin dimple.

He’s an angel. That is the only explanation. There’s no mortal here on earth that can be as beautiful as he is. I feel my heart stutter in my chest. I feel invigorated suddenly, and I have to force myself to keep standing still against this wall. Everything inside me screams to walk, to go to him and take a closer look, to reach out a hand and touch him, to make sure he’s real. To catch the colour of his eyes, to see the sparkle in them.

He’s a light shining in my darkness.

I never thought I believed much in a god. If god exists, then he’d be all powerful. And if he’s all powerful, then why the hell is life such a mess. It doesn’t make any sense to me.

But today, I find myself looking at a miracle. If this boy exists, there must be a god who created him.

He looks up and in my direction, and we lock eyes for just a millisecond before he looks away. I feel my heart beat loudly in my ears, my blood rushing through my veins. What’s happening to me? I don’t think I have ever felt like this. I don’t think I have ever felt so…

Alive.


	3. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need to find a way, have to find a way to know what the colour of his eyes is. Have to know! Have to find a way to come up to him and talk to him and see... See if it's there.
> 
> The first meet - Episode 1 of Skam Season 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi fellow Skammers!! Here's the second chapter and it collaborates with episode one of season three. There is dialogue in this chapter which I've copied from the English subs. I'd love to give credit to those wonderful Norwegian people who have done this-instantly writing subtitles as soon as a clip is released. But I don't know their names. So here's a general thank you. We, non-Norwegian speakers owe you big time. Thanks for your dedication, for your willingness to make subtitles for the rest of the world. <3 You guys rock!  
> 

Let’s talk about life.

Isak Valtersen.

That’s his name. I have never felt more alive than I did on that first day at school when I saw him. I still don’t quite know how I managed to stay away from him that day. Or any fucking day after that.

Remember when I said Sonja thinks she knows everything about me? There’s one thing she doesn’t know, because I never told her. Ansgard knows it, though. And Mikael (he’s one of my former best friends, from Bakka).

I’m into guys.

I like guys.

I guess you could say I’m bisexual. I love Sonja—I’ve been in love with her and attracted to her, and we’ve been together for four years now. If I wasn’t into girls I’d never have stayed with her. I intend to stay with her forever.

But I like guys.

I told Ansgard I thought he was beautiful because he really is. He has dark eyes and blonde hair; I love that combination. Sonja has it too. Her dark gray eyes were the first thing about her I noticed. Ansgard laughed when I told him he was beautiful and asked me if I was gay.

“No,” I said, shrugging, “I can find you beautiful without being gay.”

“Of course,” he answered, “But it’s okay if you are.”

I’d never thought about it much until then. Ansgard’s question got me thinking, and I realized I really like guys. I like dick. I was sixteen when I made out with a guy for the first time. Sonja and I had one of our many small breaks. She’d said she needed some alone time, and I was fine with that. I went out with some friends from school, Yousef and Elias. In one of the clubs, my eyes fell on this tall, dark-haired boy standing at the bar. He was gorgeous and taller than me, which almost never happens, with raven black hair and clear blue eyes. I felt a flutter in my stomach and thought at that point that maybe I was gay.

He was gay, too, and we made out in the alley next to the bar. He asked if I wanted him to go down on me. I was a bit drunk and nervous, but I let him and returned the favor too. It was my first sexual experience with a guy, and I loved it.

Sonja and I got back together again a week later, and I never saw the guy again. But I dreamt about him for quite some time. I hooked up with a few more guys over the years. Nothing ever got serious, and I stayed with Sonja. I can’t leave Sonja. And I love her, I really do.

I guess I’m bisexual, not that I really care about being pigeonholed.

 

So: Life.

Life is like a movie, and I am the director. Not only the director but also the main character. You’re supposed to be the main character in your own movie. Kate Winslet said that, and she’s awesome. I also like Claire Danes. She plays this crazy chick in Homeland. But she’s Juliet too. Baz Luhrmann directed that movie. He’s my favourite director. He creates these epic love stories, like ‘Romeo + Juliet.’ Leonardo DiCaprio is a dickhead, but he’s beautiful. Blonde with blue eyes, almost as pale as mine. Claire Danes is beautiful, too. She has these incredible big, dark eyes. They are a luminous couple. Did I tell you I like blondes with dark eyes? I have to find out the color of Isak’s eyes. I just have to.

I am the director of my own life movie, but Isak Valtersen is my main character.

That’s not how it’s supposed to be, I know that. Kate told us so. But he has blocked out the sun with his light. And I can’t get him out of my mind—with all the willpower I have in me, I can’t do it.

And to be honest, I don’t want to do it, either.

Every day in school I see him. I found out his name and that he is in 2NSB. He’s in his second year, which means he’s seventeen. I looked it up—I’m pathetic like that. I searched through the school database. Found his name and his birthday. 21 June, 1999. Seventeen. Two years younger than I am.

We third years are not in contact with second years. It’s just not how high school works. You hang with your own. Maybe you can hook up with girls in younger years, but not with boys. Of course not with boys.

Being gay or bisexual is very socially accepted in Norway, and in Oslo, at Nissen. But yeah, it’s still not as accepted as one would like.

I don’t even know what the hell I’m talking about. I have a girlfriend.

But I do know I’m not feeling depressed anymore. Guess that episode is over for now. Not that strange when the sun walks into your life.

It confuses me because... can I tell you again that I really do love my girlfriend?

She found a job at a shoe store in the center of Oslo. She’s saving money for college. We intend to live together after I finish high school. Maybe Stockholm, we’re not sure yet. It’s nice that she has a job now. She doesn’t sit on the couch anymore, waiting for me to come home. We don’t see each other every day anymore. That works for me. Sometimes she works in the evenings and on the weekend too. And I have to do my homework.

Ugh, homework sucks.

I’d rather make movies. I love making movies. I want to study Film Studies and Media Production at the NTNU in Trondheim. It’s far away, in the north of our country though, and it’s so cold there. (My sister goes there, too) Unfortunately, the University of Oslo doesn’t have a study program like that one. They do have both a Bachelor’s and a Master’s in Media Studies. Stockholm University has a good Master’s Programme in Cinema studies. Plenty of options for me, and I still have this year to figure it out. Sonja wants to go to Stockholm. She wants to study law. The easiest choice would be to follow her there.

“Even!” Ansgard shouts over the school yard when I leave the building for a smoke. I nod my head at him and walk over to where he’s standing with Jon against the wall.

My eyes travel over the square until they rest on Isak. Where they always rest. And linger. And remain. I cannot and cannot and will not ever get enough of looking at him. And I live for that moment where he looks up and locks eyes with me. It’s such a short moment, because he always looks away again. But it’s there. I’m pretty sure I’m not imagining things. I see him looking back. I see him.

I’ve reached Ansgard and shake hands. “What’s up, man?”

“Nothing much.” Ansgard follows my gaze and shakes his head. “Could you be more obvious?”

“Probably,” I say, and force myself to turn around to look at him.

“You know, if you’re that into him, you should go contact him, you big baby.”

I punch his shoulder, laughing. Making a joke out of it. But if I’m being honest, I want to do that. I’ve thought about doing it. I have this suspicion that he likes me too. I’m not sure—I’m not. But I’ve seen him looking at me.

He’s a player. He has a reputation, hooking up with a different girl every week. But if he’s so into girls, why do I catch him locking eyes with me?  I’m not sure. I have to find a way to be sure. Because this boy…

I can’t stop thinking about him. I see him through my closed eyelids. Like I said, he’s the main character of my movie. My life movie. I don’t quite understand what is happening to me, to be honest.

 

There’s a possibility to mingle with younger students. And that’s via the revue. There’s a revue this year, and there are several committees in which you can participate. These committees are open for all. There’s acting and dancing, obviously. But there’s also music, decorations, PR, and then there’s this one group which is called Kose group.

I’m sitting in the school cafeteria on the day I find out what Kose group is. I’ve chosen a seat opposite the table where Isak and his gang are sitting. He’s always surrounded by the same three guys. I call them his boy squad.

I’m sitting here enjoying my view when a girl blocks it. She’s pretty, with sunny blonde hair and a sweet smile. “Hi!” she beams at me. “I’m Vilde. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I reply. “I’m Even.”

“You’re new in this school, aren’t you?” she asks, and I nod. Her friend, a Muslim girl with a black hijab, looks at me, and I realize I recognize her. She’s Elias’s younger sister. I think her name is Sana. She gives me an awkward smile.

“I am,” I say.

“This is Sana,” says Vilde, pointing to Sana. Great, I remembered it correctly. “And we’re wondering if you’ve considered joining the revue?”

“I have, actually,” I say, “But I’m not sure what I want to do yet.”

“Would you like to join our group? We’re the Kose group.” She says it with so much enthusiasm that I can’t help but smile at her.

“And what would that entail?” I ask.

“We’re very important for the revue. We’re going to make sure that there will be a good atmosphere. We want to spread love and bake bread and stuff like that.”

She laughs a nervous laughter, and I’m actually wondering if I properly understood her. I’ve no idea what she wants, or what she means.

I look at Sana, who smiles down at me. It’s so weird seeing her again. A ping of regret in my stomach. I never see them, my former friends from Bakka. She reminds me of them. Hanging out in Elias’s house. His mother feeding us Shish Barak. You should try it sometimes, it’s awesome stuff. Those days are gone.

“Okay,” I say slowly, shaking of the melancholy. “Who else will be there?”

“We’re not sure, but people will come! I’m sure of it! You can register in the hall. We’ll hang up a list where you can fill in your name.” Vilde really tries to persuade me, smiling her sweetest smile. “We’re having our first group meeting this Friday in the theater. I will explain everything more clearly then, okay?”

“Sure,” I reply. All the while I’m thinking she’d be a perfect character in a movie about gullible, pretty blonde girls.

She seems to be satisfied with my reply because she flashes a wide grin at me and turns to Sana. “Let’s ask Jonas and Isak and those other guys too,” I hear her say. “I want more boys in the group. And they’re nice. I like that blonde one—do you know his name?”

“I think he’s called Magnus,” says Sana. “And I think I know a way to persuade them to come.”

“You do? That’s great!” Vilde says excitedly.

That’s great indeed. If they can make Isak join this weird Kose group, then I’m in too. I look at him and catch his eye for another millisecond.

Anything.

Right about now I’d do anything to get a closer look. Because I still don’t know the exact colour of his eyes.

If he goes to Kose group, then I’m going too. Because I’ve set a new goal for myself.

If Isak Valtersen is the main character of my movie, then I have to know the colour of his eyes.

 

On Friday I bump into Vilde and Sana. “Hi,” Vilde beams at me. It seems as if she always beams. “You’re Even, right? Are you still considering coming this evening?”

“Uhm, I don’t know,” I say, and her face falls. “Will there be any more people from my year? And more boys? I’d hate to be the only one.”

I don’t care about being the only one.

“No, there are going to be a lot of boys coming. A large group from second year said they’d come.” She bobs her head, and her platinum blonde hair twirls around her face.  She looks so incredibly naïve, like Claire Danes in ‘Romeo + Juliet.’

I turn to Sana, who’s next to her. “You persuaded them?”

“I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse,” Sana answers somewhat vaguely.

“‘The Godfather.’ Nice,” I nod. “But sure. I’ll be there before any of you cut off the head of anything precious to me.”

Vilde, clearly not getting the film reference, looks appalled, but Sana laughs. “It’s a deal,” she says.

In the hall, I check the registration list, but Isak’s name isn’t on it. Maybe he’s not someone who would be very meticulous about placing his name in the correct box. This doesn’t mean he won’t show. Sana seemed pretty sure of herself, and I know she has a strong will. I wonder what she did that would make those guys come to such a weird gathering as the Kose group. They don’t strike me as the type of guys who would want to be in theater and talk about love when they could be trying to hook up with girls.

Truth be told, I also wonder why I’m going. I was supposed to go out with Sonja. Or I could go out with Jon or Ansgard and smoke some jay instead.

I’m not really wondering though.

I know.

I know there might be a slight chance he’ll be there, and I can finally contact him without him getting scared and running away like a doe in the forest.

Who knows what will happen when I can finally look him in the eye and see if there’s anything there. Anything that can confirm my feeling. A feeling that tells me there’s more going on here. I’m intrigued. I’m enthralled. I need to know.

So, Kose group it is. I take a pen and write down my name on the list. Then I take out my phone and text Sonja, telling her I’ll be at a revue gathering this evening so we have to reschedule our plan of dinner and a movie. Maybe tomorrow?

She texts back, saying she’s fine with it. She has to work until 21:00 this evening, so she suspects she’ll be tired and content with pizza on the couch.

This is usually how our texts work. She lays out the plans and I follow them. Unless I don’t want to. Then we’ll argue a few times back and forth until we find a solution that works for both of us. Sometimes that means we’ll each do our separate things. Sometimes it means she gives in, and sometimes it means I give in.

I actually think we have a pretty healthy relationship. Except for the fact that she tends to monitor me too much. I tell her that, tell her to back off. And then she says she knows what’s best for me. The annoying thing is that she’s right.

I would come up with a crazy idea to steal a motorcycle and go driving down the coastline. She’d say it’s too dangerous.

I would come up with the idea to fly to the Caribbean and have a two week holiday in a beautiful resort. She’d say it’s too expensive and we’ll be in debt by the end of it.

She’s always right. I love that about her, because I trust her completely. And I know her sense and her intelligence prevent me from doing many crazy things. I owe her so much.

Back at home I grab a pizza, toss it in the oven and eat it standing over the sink. I’m late for the revue gathering. I want to be late, though. One of the last to enter. That way I can scan the room and see if he’s there. Before I leave I take one of the joints Ansgard got me earlier this week. I found out Isak likes to smoke. So I convinced Ansgard to give me a few joints so I have something as leverage. Something for our meet cute.

I intend to have a good meet cute with Isak.

Do you know what a meet cute is? It’s the first time two important characters meet each other in a book or in a movie. Every relationship starts with a meet cute. (Well, technically, only if it’s cute.) And I want my meet cute with Isak to be exceptional. The more exceptional the meet cute, the more exceptional the relationship. That’s my logic at least.

The gathering is in the theater, close to school. When I enter the main hall, Sana and Vilde are standing there to greet me, together with a third girl.

“Hi. How nice that you wanted to come.” Vilde smiles her sweet, naïve smile. “Yeah. So, just find yourself a seat. And then we’ll… We’ll get started.”

She reaches into the basket she’s holding in front of her. “Do you want a bun, maybe? I’ve made them myself.”

She hands me a white bun. I grab it while I check the room cautiously.

He’s there!

My heart jumps. He’s sitting in the corner closest to me, on the lowest step of the stairs, next to the exit. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. And his boy squad is nowhere to be seen.

“Cool.” I smile at Vilde. “I’m excited.”

I walk to him and go to sit right behind him. Sitting on the step next to him might be too obvious, too needy. Now I can look at him from behind. Spy on him, if you will. Ansgard would call me a stalker. I don’t really care. I have a goal. I have to determine the colour of his eyes.

A girl with short, dark hair approaches Isak and starts babbling about how the coolest people in school are part of Kose group. Isak doesn’t seem all too impressed, while the girl is clearly into him.

Of course he’s not impressed. He’s into guys. At least that’s what I tell myself.

What about guys?

A little less than half the population of this earth consists of guys. They’re part of a species called homo sapiens. Basically, you have two kinds of homo sapiens. There are girls, and there are guys. Then there is some margin—some who are transgender or androgen. But those are a small minority, I think. What do I know?

Vilde has started her speech on what Kose group is and what we’re supposed to do. Of course she’s extremely happy that we’ve all come to join this most important group of the revue. I smile inwardly at her exaggeration and confidence, which are so weirdly mixed with anxiety.

We’re supposed to group into duos and cook and spread good vibes. Honestly, I have no fucking clue what she’s talking about.

When she asks us all to stand up to do a love exercise (what on earth?), Isak bails. Before I can react he’s turned around and left the hall. What the fuck.

This isn’t going well. I’ve only seen him from behind, with that red cap and the little blonde curls springing from underneath, the blue jacket (the colour suits him), and the gray hoodie.  And now he left.

Vilde asks us all to stand in a circle and hold hands. “Look into the eyes of the person next to you and say something nice to them,” Vilde instructs.

Her instruction causes all kinds of mayhem and confusion since we’re standing in a circle and we have people standing on both sides of us. So who is the person next to you? Is it the person on your right or on your left? Life is never simple.

It’s sort of funny, and awkward. Yet, somehow I can’t help but feel detached, as if I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to have my meet cute tonight, and for all I know he’s left the building already.

My feeling of unease grows, and finally I break free from the group and head to the bathroom. There’s a chance he might be there.

I take my joint out of my backpack and place it behind my ear. If he sees me with it, he might be intrigued. As long as he’s indeed in there.

He might be in there **.**

As soon as I open the bathroom door I see one of the stalls is locked and…

He might be there.

And from behind the locked door I hear a weird mechanical sound. As if someone is playing a game on his phone.

He might be. He probably is.

I take a leak, and after I’m done I go wash my hands. In the mirror I can see the door is still locked. I leave the water running for quite some time, starting to actually feel nervous now. He has to come out. I can’t stay here waiting for him, looking like some lunatic, forever.

I’m about to turn off the tap when I hear the sound of a toilet flushing. The door opens. And it’s him.

Isak.

I look at him through the mirror while I pump some soap in my hand. He looks stunning. I  appreciate the smooth flow of his cheekbones. The darker blonde of his eyebrows. I think that’s so pretty. He looks back at me, the way he always does, only for a second, and then he focuses on the task of meticulously washing his hands. I wash mine, too, unnecessarily, for the second time, and grab for the paper towels in the dispenser next to the sink. I feel incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden.

It’s so not me.

Here goes my meet cute, seriously. Say something, Even!

I grab another paper towel from the dispenser. And another, and another, and then some more. Isak’s watching me as I keep on snatching the towels in a swooshing motion. I feel his stare.

When there’s only one left I take that one, too. I have to take them all—I have to take it all.

It’s all or nothing.

With the last one I casually wipe my face, and then I throw away the whole wad of it in the bin, before returning Isak’s stare.

Here we go.

Our meet cute.

I lock eyes with him and raise my eyebrows, “Did you also need towels?”

His eyes widen in confusion. In the fluorescent bathroom light his pupils constrict, and I can finally answer my question.

 

GREEN!

They are green. Green like a meadow, like moss, like springtime. They’re the colour of wide open spaces, of new beginnings. They’re not as dark up close as they seemed from a distance. They’re illuminating me, giving me a glance into his soul. Showing me a depth that was hidden before.

And they keep staring at me. He doesn’t answer. He seems tongue-tied or something, I don’t know.

All I know is that his eyes are green and absolutely magnificent.

He doesn’t react to my question, so finally I reach into the garbage bin and take out the last towel, the one I wiped my face with. I straighten it out and hand it to him. He takes it, baffled, and still doesn’t reply.

I raise my eyebrows again. I know it’s a good move. Sonja told me so. She said it makes girls swoon. Then I take the joint from behind my ear. “Meet me outside.”

Hopefully he has no idea how nerve-wracking that was for me. And how anxious I am for him to follow. Outside I sit on the back of a bench and light the joint.

One.

Two.

Thr… there he is. Less than three seconds. That must be some sort of record. I take a drag and hand the joint to him. He takes it, twisting his wrist in an impossible angle. I wonder why he does that.

He climbs up to sit on the bench-back next to me. My heart jumps. He’s sitting next to me! This is fucking surreal. I stare, then look away, but I have to look at him again. I have to stop myself from pinching my arm to make sure I’m awake. Be cool, Even, I tell myself. What the fuck? Why can’t I be more like, I don’t know, Ryan Gosling. He’s always so sure of himself.

“Do you know the group leader?” I ask.

“Vilde?” he replies, and he smiles a little while saying it. His lips curl upwards, and I see those cute little lines in his cheeks. Like ripples in water. So precious. He sniggers, “With the love exercise?”

“What _was_ that?” I ask, still utterly surprised by what happened inside.

Isak chuckles again. I have to admit I can’t get enough of it. “No. I mean… I had to leave. I just couldn’t deal with that stuff. What happened?”

“She made us walk around and feel each other up in a dark room.” I laugh inwardly as I add, “And if you touched a dick, you had to suck it.”

Isak, who was looking ahead of him, turns his head and looks at me incredulously.

“No?!” He laughs.

“No!” I confess.

We laugh, and then we’re quiet, both of us. The silence isn’t awkward, and I wait for him to start talking. He gives me back the joint, and I take a drag. It feels tingly and hazy. I let the feeling wash over me while waiting patiently for Isak to speak.

“What grade are you in?” he finally asks.

“3STB,” I say.

“But… You didn’t go here last year?”

So he noticed I’m new. He noticed me.

“No. Bakka,” I say, referring to my former school.

“You transferred in your final year?” Isak asks.

It’s a logical question. It’s not common to transfer between schools in the same area, let alone in your last year. He probably thinks I got kicked out of school. Which is more or less true. I failed my exams due to my Quran episode, making an epic mess of things. My parents thought it better for me to change schools. Start with a clean slate.

It isn’t something to share with Isak the first second after we meet.

Though I want to.

I feel this strong urge to open up to him. To lay my life before him and see if he’s willing to take it. But before I can even open my mouth, the girl with the dark hair from earlier comes walking to us.

Fuck.

“Here you are! Hey,” she says to Isak, not really looking at me.

“Hi,” Isak says back, reluctant. I’m so happy he sounds reluctant, and I’m so mad that this girl shows up, destroying our time together.

“We’re in the process of grouping up, and we’ll have to be in pairs,” she says, still pretty much ignoring me. “And I don’t really know a lot of people. Or, I mean, I know Maria, but she’s with Lea.” The girl is making wide hand gestures while she talks. She’s very expressive. And pretty too.  

“So I was wondering if you wanted to pair up with me?” She looks at Isak, full of anticipation and hope.

Isak starts to stammer.

I jump in. “I thought we were in a group together?” It’s a bold move, but I decide to help him out, assuming he wants it.

“Yeah…”

And he does!

“I had… kind of agreed to be in a group together with…”

He starts to cough to cover up the fact that he doesn’t know my name.

“To be in a group together with…”

Why haven’t I told him my name yet?

I reach out a hand to the girl. “Even.”

She shakes my hand, “Emma.” She looks positively pissed.

I can’t believe Isak finds out my name like this. And I want this Emma girl to be gone. But no such luck. Emma tries to find a way to make our duo into a trio. She’s sure there can be three in a group.

“I think she said to be in pairs, but I don’t care,” I say, not wanting to come off as too eager to be alone with Isak.

“Yeah, it did seem like Vilde was really clear on it having to be pairs,” Isak says.

Isak doesn’t want her to crash our party either. Emma looks really distraught, though. Isak gives in and says she should ask Vilde if we can be a trio.

“Yeah, okay,” Emma says as she joins us on the bench.

“We’ll do that then. I’m sure it will be cool,” Isak says as he scoots a little closer to me, away from her.

I offer him the joint, but he refuses. I don’t know why. He says he’s had enough. Emma asks if she can have a drag, so I hand it over to her.

So much for our meet cute.

I’m not entirely happy about it. Mostly because of the interruption. But at least I achieved my goal.

They’re green!

His eyes are green and beautiful.

Green. The colour of life.

 


	4. Cardamom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is this? An infatuation? But it will go away, right? 'Cause Sonja and I are endgame. And infatuations are supposed to go away over time.  
> He's blocked the sun out of my life. Isak Valtersen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 3. It complements episode 2 of season 3. Thanks to those awsm Norwegians who translated it, because I've used their subtitles for this chapter.

**Saturday, 08-10-2016  
**

 

“So what’s up with that guy?” Ansgard sits in his windowsill, inhaling smoke from his cigarette.

“What guy?” I ask.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Even.” He rolls his eyes at me. “What about Sonja, huh? Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” I say. “There’s nothing to know. So there’s a guy in my school I like. What’s the fucking big deal?”

“The big deal is,” Ansgard pauses purposefully, “that you seem infatuated.”

“And what if I am?” I ash my cigarette and take another drag. “I can be infatuated, can’t I? It’s not a fucking problem.”

“I guess not,” Ansgard says. He’s not the kind of person who would drag something like this out. “Although you do say ‘fuck’ a lot. I think it’s a sign that you’re more invested than you’re willing to admit.”

“Hmmm,” is all I have to offer in reply.

“Really, though! You’re being obvious about it. Constantly staring at him in school. You act like a teenager in love.”

“I am a teenager,” I point out.

“In love,” he adds, and I shake my head.

It’s Saturday evening and we’re in his room, waiting for Sonja and Evi. Sonja and I were supposed to hang with Elise and Eskil, but they cancelled, so we’re going out with Evi and Ansgard instead. Evi is Ansgard’s girlfriend. She and Sonja met each other apart from us. We all found out by coincidence that we already knew each other’s boyfriends/girlfriends.

Evi has a Saturday job in the same store where Sonja works, and they end their shift together. We’ve decided to hang out with the four of us, have some dinner, go to a club, maybe.

“So, you’re not going to tell Sonja about him?” Ansgard asks, and just then the doorbell rings.

“No,” I say as I get up and buzz the girls in.

It turns out they did some grocery shopping and intend to cook with us. I follow them to the kitchen, where I take a few beers from the fridge and hand them out. Sonja launches into a hilarious story about a guy who insisted on buying two different shoes. The left one had to be a red sneaker and the right had to be blue.

“Why couldn’t he just buy both pairs?” I ask.

“I asked him the same question,” Sonja smiles, “but he said he couldn’t buy right red shoes. It would be bad luck. We had to call in Mr. Trond to settle the issue.”

“Ugh,” said Elise, “he’s so annoying. Flirting with us all the time.”

“Yeah, and he let the guy get away with it, too,” Sonja frowns, which makes her forehead crinkle up adorably. “Now I’m left with a blue left shoe and a red right shoe, which I can’t sell.”

Ansgard and I burst out laughing. “That’s ridiculous,” Ansgard says.

“There are all kinds of crazy people out there,” Sonja says, winking at me.

We have this joke between us about craziness and how it sparks up our relationship. “I wouldn’t want you any less crazy,” she always says after I fail at some weird idea and make a mess, which she then has to clean up.

There was the one incident with the shaving cream. During one of my manic episodes I went to the drug store and bought about a dozen of bottles of shaving cream and filled the bathtub with it. _I_ thought it made for a nice swim. _She_ thought it was a mess, and it took a long time to clean. The problem was that my parents were out for the weekend, and she had to do all the cleaning because I was officially wiped out and had pretty much lost consciousness.

Being manic usually results in becoming severely depressed. My body worn down because I don’t sleep in manic episodes and my mind constantly races. From one thought to the other, a thousand thoughts per minute. It’s exhausting. As a result I sleep for hours on end while Sonja takes care of me and the damage I’ve done. It’s not always bad—sometimes I’m just running around until I fall over.

And I’m not crazy. I’m bipolar. It’s not the same. Most of the time I’m perfectly fine.

We end up in a club after dinner. The music is loud and pumping, and I’m enjoying myself with my beautiful girlfriend in my arms. The music changes to a slower song, and Sonja presses herself against me. I feel her lips on my neck, her arms wrapped around me, and she speaks in my ear that she loves me and that she’s so proud of me.

“Why are you proud of me?” I ask, a little baffled by her comment.

“Because you’re doing so well in your new school. It’s already October, and nothing’s happened yet.” She lifts her head and looks at me, her gray eyes shining. “Before you know it, this year will be over and we can go to Stockholm!”

“To party!” I shout, and I kiss her on the lips, hard and determined. I want to kiss away the nagging feeling. The feeling of her being proud of me. The feeling of her waiting for me. Those are good things, right?

Sonja kisses me back with enthusiasm, and her touch makes me want more. I want to take her home, to forget and make love.

We belong together.

But after, when she’s curled up against me in my bed, I close my eyes, and another face looms up behind my closed eyelids. I wonder how he’s doing. I wonder what he’s doing. I wonder if he thinks about me the way I think about him.

He blocked the sun out of my life.

Isak Valtersen.

* * *

 

**Wednesday, 12-10-2016**

 

It’s Wednesday when I see him again in the schoolyard. Monday and Tuesday I stayed  home, wondering if it would help me get over this infatuation. I don’t really want to get over it, but there’s a small part in my brain saying maybe I shouldn’t encourage it.

What about infatuation?

Infatuation is a foolish and usually extravagant passion or love or admiration. I looked that up in the dictionary. It says it’s a fleeting thing. It’s not real love, it’s temporary. What I have with Sonja is real love. Real love that I should cherish. No one understands me like she does. No one takes me just as I am the way she does. An infatuation is something that I should try to get out of my system.

So I stayed home.

This is a test.

When I enter the schoolyard I see my friends leaning against the wall, and I walk toward them. I don’t look left or right, I just walk straight up to them.

I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that makes me turn my head. Is it his heartbeat that beats the rhythm of my life? I don’t know why I do it, but I turn my head and I see him.

And he sees me. And he’s not looking away this time. He’s looking straight back at me. I keep walking, and I keep staring, and he keeps staring back until I reach Ansgard and Jon.

I failed the test.

What about infatuation? Will it go away? The dictionary said it would, but what does a dictionary know, really?

What I know is that I can’t ignore him and that I want to get to know him better. I wonder what I can do to get into contact with him. We didn’t talk much more on Friday after Emma interrupted us. There’s no new Kose group gathering any time soon, as far as I know.

There must be something I can do.

“So, you decided to show up again?” Jon asks.

The sun pricks in my eyes, so I take out my sunglasses and put them on.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Was there someone you were trying to avoid, or did you have an actual good reason to stay away from school?” Ansgard asks.

My phone buzzes, and I check it and see that Sonja sent me a text.

**_  
_**

I text her back that I’m fine with that and turn my attention back to the guys.

“No,” I answer Ansgard’s question, “I didn’t have a good reason.”

“That’s what I thought. You know what you should do?” Ansgard says. “Find out his route to school and follow him. I mean, take stalking to the next level.”

“You’re crazy,” I say, but I actually think it’s a good idea. Accidentally bump into him, that might work. Who cares if it’s stalking.

I’m making a new decision. I’m going to give in to this infatuation. Because the sooner I give into it, the sooner it will pass.

* * *

**Friday, 14-10-2016**

 

Isak takes the tram to school. Line 12. Solli, at Henrik Ibsens gate, is the stop closest to Hartvig Nissen. That much I know on Friday when I get on Line 12 a few stops earlier. I chose my time based on his schedule, but it’s still a big gamble, I have no clue when he’s going to take this tram, or if he will. He might hang out with his boys squad, he might go out to eat kebab or something—it’s Friday after all.

The tram reaches Solli, and I look outside. Luck is on my side. He’s there! Standing casually against the railing, staring down on his phone.

The tram comes to a stop, and the doors open in front of me. Isak enters where I’m standing.

At the exact place where I am standing!

His eyes are still fixed on his phone, as he comes to stand right next to me.

Right next to me.

Is it fate?

Is it coincidence?

Or is it just me, taking stalking to the next level?

“Hello,” I say.

He looks up from his phone, startled. “Hello.”

“On your way home?” I ask.

“Yeah, you too?” He’s not looking at me. His attention is back on his phone.

I look at him, as I always do. He’s a magnet. It’s just—he’s so beautiful. I’m not really used to that amount of beauty. It enthralls me. I notice the way his eyebrows stand out on his forehead in two perfect arcs. They’re a couple shades darker than his blonde hair, and that makes them stand out even more. I have to fight the urge to touch them with my finger, to feel how soft the hairs would be.

He looks up at me now, smiling shyly, not speaking.

“Awesome conversation, though.” I laugh, and he laughs too.

We fall silent again. I’m searching my brain for something to break the ice. Why is it so difficult? I’m a smooth talker. And as far as I know he’s a smooth talker too. What is this thing between us that makes it so strange now? As if there’s something in the atmosphere when he’s around. Something that closes my throat and speeds up my breathing. It’s almost as if I can hear my heart slamming in my chest.

Finally, Isak is the one who speaks up. “You… you’re eighteen, right?”

I nod. It’s not as if I intend to lie about my age. But it’s as if I can’t find the oxygen I need to tell him I’m nineteen. It’s not important information, I guess, but it’s strange, the effect he has on me.

“Could you possibly buy beer?” Isak asks.

“Sure,” I say. “Where?”

“We could get out the next stop?” Isak suggests.

I’m in for that.

We walk from the tram stop to a small grocery store. Isak waits outside while I go in to grab a six pack of beer. As I walk to the cash register I hesitate. What are my options here? I can buy the beer, give it to him, say goodbye, and walk away. But I don’t want that. My other option is forgetting my ID. I’d have to go home to get it, and he’ll join me. That sounds like a much better idea.

The six pack goes back on the shelf, and I stalk out of the store and to Isak, who’s idling on the pavement, staring at his phone.

“I managed to forget my ID. I need to go home to get it. Join me?”

He doesn’t react, so I walk away. I’m pretty sure he’ll follow.

When he catches up with me I take a sideways look at him. “So? Anything fun happening this weekend?”

He shrugs, “Not really. Just hanging with some friends, I guess.”

“Sounds awesome,” I give him a smile and point with my hand. “We’ll take a left here.”

“I’ll probably do some homework too,” he says as he follows me into the street where I live. “Need to keep up my grades.”

“Yeah, that’s important,” I agree. I take my keys out of my pocket and open the front door. “Here we are.”

“Hello?” I call out when we enter the house. No answer. Neither of my parents are home. They aren’t home much. My mother works in a hospital—she’s a doctor—she’s almost always in the hospital. My father is a free spirit, a musician. He’s away a lot, jamming with friends, writing music. My older sister is in Trondheim, where she goes to university. I have the house to myself tonight. To myself and Isak. “Awesome.”

We take off our shoes, and he follows me to my bedroom. I guess now is the time when I have to pretend to look for my ID. Let’s not do that. Let’s search for the one joint I still have left from Ansgard.

I rummage through my stuff while Isak looks around my room. He touches my guitar and then focuses his attention on my closet door, which has multiple drawings tacked to it.

“I don’t get where I put it,” I wonder aloud.

Isak is looking at my drawings.

Did I tell you that I draw?

They’re these small comic stories. Most of them consist of two pictures with little text balloons. Some are portraits. I’ll have to draw Isak some time.

“Did you draw these?” Isak asks.

“Yeah.” I grab a bunch of my clothes and throw them in a corner. Where’s that joint?

“They’re good.”

“Thanks.”

“Really funny.” He’s smiling. And I’m so proud of myself. Because I did that—I made him smile. I set a new goal for myself. To make him smile as often as I can today.

“Do you think so?” I ask.

“Mhm,” he nods, as he tilts his head to examine the pictures even closer.

Under my newest pair of jeans I finally find the joint. “Here it is.”

“Did you find it?” He’s still staring at my closet.

“No, but…” I hold out the joint.

Isak looks up at me and sees it. “Hey,” he says, appreciatively.

I knew I could lure him in with it. Score!

I open the window and go to sit on the windowsill, Isak across from me. We talk about school, we talk about music. It’s easy to talk with him now. No more awkwardness. And I make good on my goal of making him smile, making him laugh.

God, his smile. It _does_ something to me.

Isak tells me he’s a NWA fan. “It’s, like, the kind of music you listen to when you want to walk around and feel cool.”

And I get that. I really do. Rap music makes me feel that way, too.

What about feeling cool?

It’s a weird thing. You want to be part of the gang. You don’t want to stand out—you want to belong. At the same time, you don’t want to be a thirteen-in-a-dozen kind of guy. You want to be a trendsetter, not a trend follower. In the end we’re all trend followers, though. No one is ever as original as they think they are. That’s why we need the music. To make us feel cool.

“Have you listened to Nas?” I ask.

“Hmm, Nas?” Isak inhales and frowns.

“Are you kidding?” I say, feigning that I’m appalled. “You haven’t listened to his music?”

“I’ve listened to it? I’ve listened to it…” Isak sounds as if he has to convince himself. “Nas? Nas.”

“Have you listened to it or what?” I raise my eyebrows at him, smiling while I hand over the joint. Our fingers touch, briefly, a brush of hands, almost nonexistent. But I feel it. I feel it like electricity. I’m almost surprised there aren’t any sparks flying off in the air.

“I have listened to it,” Isak says.

“It doesn’t sound like it.”

“Fuck.” He laughs, “I’ve listened to it.”

“We’ll listen to him later. He’s awesome.” I turn my head and look out of the window.

He’s looking at me.

He’s totally checking me out.

I feel his eyes on me. And I have to say, it feels good. Damn, it feels good.

I get up to hook up my phone to a Bluetooth Box and play Nas for Isak.

_Illmatic, nigga, It Was Written though_

_It’s been a long time comin’_

Damn.

It feels good.

Smoking jay makes you hungry, so after a while I suggest we make some cheese sandwiches. We head to the kitchen. I find the cheese on the counter, where I left it this morning. Never a good idea, to leave cheese out of the fridge. Isak notices it too.

“That’s some sweaty cheese.”

“Yeah, I know. I managed to leave it out when I left for school today. So it’s been lying out, almost melting,” I say. “Has that happened to you before?”

“Yeah,” Isak’s sitting on the counter, watching me as I put a generous amount of cheese on a few slices of bread. “Yeah. I always forget cheeses.”

“Yeah? You too?” I smile.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, that’s a First World problem.”

“Cheese and keys,” Isak says. “And especially key cheese.”

“Key cheese!” I exclaim. “Fuck, that one’s new.”

Key cheese is a cheese with cumin and cloves in it. I can’t believe he’s mentioning this cheese, this cumin cheese. Out of all the cheeses he could have mentioned.

“Those are the three things I forget a lot,” Isak says.

I feel instantly alone. Cumin cheese does that to me. I shake off the feeling as I go to the fridge and take a couple of beers out of it, handing one to Isak. “Beer?”

His phone gives a pling sound. Must be his boy squad. Or maybe that girl, Emma.

After opening our beers I turn back to the cheese sandwiches. “So, what kind of spices do you want on your cheese toastie?” I ask as I rummage through the small jars on the counter. “Let’s start with Caribbean Jerk BBQ.”

“Caribbean Jerk sounds…” He’s waiting. I look up. “Perfect. Go ahead.”

“Chili?” I ask, grabbing another jar.

“Chili. Always chili,” Isak replies.

His phone keeps letting us know someone’s calling for Isak’s attention.

“Rosemary?”

“Rosemary? Yes. A lot. A lot of rosemary.”

Pling! His phone again.

“Pottagaldrar?”

“Pottagaldrar? Uh, yeah?”

Pling!

He finally takes out his phone and checks his messages while I continue to add spices to the cheese sandwich. This is going to taste awful, most likely.

“Cinnamon?” I ask while Isak is staring at his phone.

“Yeah, fuck it,” he says.

“I think it’s going to taste like balls.” I smile as I look at him. “But there’s no turning back now.”

“No,” Isak agrees. “There’s no turning back now.”

Somehow it feels like a verdict. Not a bad one, but a final verdict nonetheless. No turning back.

Fuck.

I thought this was just an infatuation.

He’s texting his friends back. I wonder what he’s typing. Is he bailing on them to hang with me? I want to believe that’s it. You know what, I’m pretty sure that’s it. He asked me to buy beer after all. He obviously needed it to drink with his friends. But he’s here instead. With me.

I feel incredibly happy about that. The feeling of loneliness from only moments ago, forgotten. Isak is here with me!

The cheese sandwiches filled with all these spices, the weirdest combination ever, are going into the oven. I ask Isak about his hobbies, what he likes to do in his free time.

“I like playing video games,” he tells me. “Fifa, mostly.”

“Football?” I ask, and he nods. “Do you watch it, too?”

“Yeah, I follow the European Champions League. But not much else, though,” he smiles apologetically.

It’s such a ‘straight guys being straight together’ thing to like football and talk about it. And play it, too. Then afterwards, showering together and shout about girls, just to make sure everyone knows how straight you really are, while you’re being naked together. I wonder what Isak thinks about that.

After about ten minutes we take the toasties out and head back to my room.

I take a bite and make a face. “There’s something not quite right with it.”

“It’s absolutely terrible,” Isak says, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s so bad, it’s kind of good.”

“No.” Isak shakes his head. “It is so bad, it got… even worse.”

“Excuse me!” I say, indignant. “You were the one who wanted us to put on all of those spices!”

Isak looks at me with those gorgeous green eyes and smiles. “It’s really important to have a lot of cardamom.”

I chuckle, “That’s the trick?”

“Cardamomme!!” he exclaims, and I laugh. He’s so precious.

Cardamom. I’ll forever associate it with him.

“Have you heard rumours about my rapping?” he asks.

“Actually, I have.”

“Give me a beat,” Isak instructs.

I give him a beat so he can show off his amazing rapping skills. I’ll give him whatever he wants. A beat. A joint. A beer. A cheese toastie with cardamom. Whatever he wants.

He’s laughing when I lose the rhythm. I’m off track. And then the doorbell rings.

Fuck.

I’m really off track. I knew I was forgetting something. Something important? Is there anything that’s more important than giving Isak a beat?

“Fuck!” I say out loud. “What time is it?”

I forgot the time….. Fuck. Sonja is coming with Eskil and Elise. And I totally forgot.

Isak gets out his phone and reads the time, “Ten to eight.

I scramble to my feet. “I invited some friends to a pregame. But you’re welcome to stay. I have a lot of beer.”

“Yeah,” Isak sounds baffled, as if he’s a little off track too. I suppose he is. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I walk to the door feeling so confused and a little hazy. Sonja is coming over while Isak is here. I don’t know what to do about that.

I open the door, and Sonja beams at me. “Hi!”

“Hello.” I smile at her and Eskil and Elise, standing behind her. “Fuck, I’d almost forgotten, but it’s really nice that you showed up.”

Elise smiles. “Thanks.”

“What are the plans for tonight?” I ask as I wave them further in. They all take off their shoes, and we walk to my bedroom.

“You guys introduce yourselves,” I say, gesturing to Isak, who has gotten up from the floor and shakes hands with Eskil and Elise.

I look at him and then at Sonja. There’s no covering this up. There’s no way to avoid the truth. “This is Sonja. My girlfriend,” I say.

Sonja takes Isak’s hand. “Sonja. Pleasure.”

“Isak,” he replies, sounding bewildered.

It makes me feel awful. But Sonja’s here now and I have to remind myself that this is just an infatuation. Sonja is my endgame.

And she knows that too. She wraps an arm around me, smiling up at me. “Your girlfriend has become employee of the month at work.”

“Are you for real?” I ask. I’m really surprised and feel a burst of pride.

“Don’t overreact, though,” she says.

“You’re so talented.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s great. So I get extra…”

I interrupt her. “Let me be a little proud, though.”

“Yeah. You can be proud. I got wine from Trond. He’s always so angry and grumpy, but...”

“He’s your flirty boss, right?”

“He flirted a little, yes, but that’s okay.”

I lean in and kiss her. “Is that why you got the wine?” I ask.

She nods, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me back. I feel so fucked right now. Isak’s standing in my bedroom, forlorn. My girlfriend has her arms around me and her lips on mine. This was not supposed to happen.

Can I go back to cheese toasties with cardamom, please?

 


	5. Addict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's looking at me. Kissing a girl, but looking at me. And god it turns me on. It's like heroin coursing through my veins. I'm not an addict, though. I'm not.
> 
> Maybe that's a lie.

 

I feel bad. When Sonja breaks off the kiss Isak tells me he has to leave. He’d forgotten plans he’d made with some friends to hang. I’m one hundred percent sure it’s not true. I walk with him to the door.

“I had a good time,” I tell him. It sounds like an apology.

He nods but doesn’t look at me as he walks out of the door. I close it and go to stand against it for a short while. I close my eyes. Fuck. This sucks. I can’t believe I forgot about Sonja.

And not just Sonja. I forgot about pretty much everything. Frustrated, I walk to the kitchen and get myself another beer. Standing in the kitchen, I knock back the whole bottle of Carlsberg.

“Pace yourself, Even.”

I look up and see Sonja standing in the doorway. She’s frowning, “Why are you drinking so fast? You know it’s not good for you.”

“I know,” I say, annoyed. “You don’t have to point out all the freaking time what’s good for me and what’s not.”

She smiles and walks toward me. “I just worry about you. I love you.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me softly on the lips. Her lips are warm and soft and taste like the strawberry lip-gloss she’s wearing. I sigh against her, feeling comforted for a moment, because I’m sure of her love for me. And it’s pretty amazing that she loves me.

What about love?

I have to admit I am a sucker for it. I love the epic love stories. The ones where they die and cry and then die some more. Even the cheesy ones, like Titanic, I love. Book love and movie love, it’s all well and good. Love in real life is so much more complicated. Take my parents, for example. Yeah, they love each other. But it seems to me that they love their work just that little bit more. My mom practically lives in the hospital. My dad is addicted to his music. He passed the addiction on to me. I’ve had guitar lessons since I was six. I have two guitars, one acoustic, one electric. And he’d sing love songs with me and tell me how wonderful love is. But I can’t really see it with the two of them.

My sister Sophie isn’t a much better example. She dated a guy for about three years before he dumped her for her best friend in her senior year of highschool. As far as I know she’s not dated anyone since. She spends her time in Trondheim studying, going out, having one night stands and getting drunk.

Then Sonja came along and I fell in love and that was epic. I fucking worshipped her at first, thought she was the most exquisite creature on earth. I thought I knew what love was then. I’m not saying I was wrong, but maybe a little naïve. We’re still great together, I think, but it’s not all rose peddles and moonlight walks and kisses and sex on the beach. It’s so much more complicated than that.

When I’m down and low and depressed and she takes care of me, love feels like a weight pressing me down. When I’m up and jumping with joy, love feels like sunrays and the colours of the rainbow.

Right now, love feels like something is twirling around in my stomach. As if I ate too much chocolate and drank too much coffee. All wired with sugar and caffeine. It makes me nervous and confused and anxious. I’m seriously so confused right now.

* * *

 

On Sunday I have a cheese toastie with cardamom. Just because Isak said it would taste good. It actually does taste good. But I miss him. I want to eat it with him, and I associate cardamom with Isak now. I feel it in my chest, a sort of ache. It’s really bothering me. 

Because seriously, I hardly know him, let’s be real.

Monday I go to school. My mother talked to the principal about me at the beginning of this school year. They want to be accommodating. Isak told me Friday that the limit for ditching classes is ten percent, but I’m thinking that doesn’t apply to me. That is, if I’m not feeling well I can stay home. But if there’s nothing wrong with me, like now, I have to go. So I go.

Dreading it, but I go.

I need to graduate. I want to study Film and Cinema at university, and I can’t do that without graduating high school.

There’s one good thing about going to school. Isak left his cap at my place. So I actually have an excuse to go talk to him.

In the hallway I run into Vilde. “Hi, Even!” she says, “There’s a revue party this Friday. We’re going to have a pregame at Isak’s house with Kose group. Will you come?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure,” I say. “This Friday?”

“Yes, is that a problem?” Vilde asks and she looks quite upset. As if me not coming to her gathering would be a true disaster.

“No, no,” I hasten to reassure her. “But I was supposed to go out with my girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend? That’s so great.” Vilde’s beaming again. “You can bring her. I’d love to meet her. I’m sure we all would love to meet her.”

“Okay, sure, I’ll bring her,” I say, “I think she’d like to meet you all, too.”

“Great! I’ll see you Friday, then, at Isak’s. I will email the time and address,” Vilde says. “So nice that you’re coming!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, absent-minded. “Uhm. Have you seen Isak?”

“He’s in the hall, they’re watching the auditions for the revue,” Vilde replies while rolling her eyes at me.

I walk to the big hall and send a text to Sonja.

In the hall I see Isak with his boy squad sitting in the windowsill.

“Hello,” I say. Isak looks up, startled. I throw the cap in his lap. “You forgot this Friday.”

He looks so thrown that for a second I wonder if I said something very offensive. But then I remember, he ditched his friends to be with me and now they’re sitting right there next to him. He probably came up with a lame excuse, and now I’m blowing his cover.

Isak keeps staring at me, and the other three boys are staring as well. Now I’m wondering if I made a mistake about the cap.

“Is it yours?” I ask.

One of the boys, a guy with a wild mop of brown curly hair, looks from me to the cap and says, “I think that’s mine…”

“Forgot where?” asks the bald guy with the gray hoodie.

Isak locks eyes with me, and I can read the plea in them. _Please don’t say anything_.

And of course I won’t.

Anything.

Anything he wants I will give him. If he doesn’t want his friends to know he was with me last Friday I will gladly lie for him.

God, I’m such a mess.

“In the cafeteria,” I say, and I force myself to walk away.

My phone buzzes. Sonja.

 **_  
_**

Of course she would. Somehow she can’t stand the fact that I’m having a life apart from her. She has to know who I’m with and what I do and how and when and such and so. 

Ugh. Since when have I become so cynical about Sonja?

* * *

 

The party is a blacklight party. So it says in the email Vilde sent. Sonja and I dress accordingly. Black and white and fluorescent clothes. Sonja got me a yellow fluorescent headband and decorated her own face with blacklight paint. She looks really cute, yellow and orange dots in waved patterns over her cheeks and forehead. She’s wearing a hot pink top. The colour suits her. 

I kiss the tip of her nose. “I like this paint, even though it doesn’t leave me enough room to touch your face.”

“Then don’t touch my face,” she says, smiling. I love her smile. She has beautiful teeth, really white and straight. Her face lights up when she smiles, she seems less serious, and the constant frown on her forehead is wiped away.

We arrive at Isak’s apartment. I’m really excited to see where he lives, how he lives. I’ve thought about that a lot this week.

Truth be told, he’s constantly on my mind. I find that I regret that I didn’t touch him Friday. I wanted to, wanted to brush my hand over his cheek. And when he was sitting on my kitchen counter I wanted to pop a kiss on his lips. See his eyes widen. How would it be? What would it feel like? I remember the brush of our hands when I passed him the joint. How electrifying that was. If that little touch had such a big effect on me, how much more would his lips enthrall me? And bring me to heaven.

I’m sure they are going to bring me to heaven. His lips, as soon as they touch mine.

But.

They won’t. Because I’m with Sonja. I can’t break up with her just because I want to kiss him. Can I?

Or.

Maybe I don’t have to break up with her. I can be immoral and kiss him anyway. Can I?

The place is buzzing with excitement and filled with people. A lot more than the group attending the theater two weeks ago. Vilde and Sana stand near the door to greet us.

“Hi!” Vilde’s greeting is overly enthusiastic as always. “So nice to see you!”

She shakes hands with Sonja. “Vilde.”

“Sonja.” Sonja replies and then shakes hands with Sana, too.

“She’s my girlfriend,” I say to the girls.

“I get that,” Vilde smiles at Sonja and asks her which school she goes to.

While Sonja explains about her gap-year and her job, I look around to spot Isak. He’s sitting on a couch at the other side of the room, talking with Emma. Or, better said, she’s talking and he’s looking at me. The first thing I notice about him is his t-shirt. It’s black with large white capital letters on it, saying I’M ILLUMINATI.

He’s listened to NAS. That has to be it. And it’s because of me, I’m sure of it!

As our eyes lock I feel a spark of anticipation in my stomach. I didn’t see him at school today, and it felt a little like withdrawal from an addiction. Now that I see him again it’s like heroin coursing through my veins.

Not good.

It feels so good, though.

And I want more.

He takes a sip of his beer, turns to Emma and kisses her full on the mouth, interrupting her mid-sentence. My eyes widen at the sight of it.

No, no, no, no, no, no. I don’t like it. It’s not fair that she gets to feel his lips on her. It’s not fair.

Oh my freaking fucking god, I sound like a little child. I feel like a little child, too, as I leave Sonja with Vilde and cross the room to plop on the couch next to Emma.

“I think you guys are bonding a little too much over here,” I say.

They break off the kiss and Emma turns around to hug me. She’s so enthusiastic to see me, it’s kind of cute.

I reach my arm around her and touch Isak’s shoulder. “Nice apartment.”

“Thanks,” he replies, but he doesn’t look at me.

“It’s really nice here. It’s insanely nice,” Emma exclaims. “I mean, it’s a shared apartment. There are always cool people here. Such as Eskild! Have you met Eskild?”

She points to a guy wearing a pink wig and dancing in the middle of the room.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” I say.

“No? He’s gay. He’s super sweet! I love gay people! They’re, they’re hilarious.”

I think Emma’s a little drunk.

“You don’t think that is a bit of a superficial generalization?” I ask.

Isak’s interest is piqued now, he looks up at me where he has avoided eye contact before.

“How so?” Emma asks, clearly not getting what I’m at. “To say that I love gay people because they’re hilarious?”

“Yeah, it’s like saying all Muslims are terrorists.”

“What? No! That’s not the same! To be hilarious is insanely positive! To be a terrorist is super negative!” She looks at Isak, as if wanting for him to agree with her.

I shake my head. “I mean, it’s not about what you say, it’s the fact that you’re generalizing. Not all gays are funny.”

Emma’s had enough of it, she gets up off the couch. “This is really boring. Isak, come dance with me!”

Isak hasn’t said a word throughout the entire conversation, and without looking at me he gets up and goes to dance with Emma. But I know I intrigued him with the gay talk. It confirms to me once more that he is gay. I think he’s more gay than I am, not attracted to girls at all, probably.

But also, very closeted. Which puts him in a difficult position.

What about being closeted?

In a way I understand it. Being closeted. I get that people don’t want to be different or that they want to be or do what they’re expected to do. Pressure from friends or family will only increase that. On the other hand I don’t see what the fucking big deal is. I mean, who cares if you like girls or guys. It really, really doesn’t matter.

Then again, it does matter. It matters a lot to me that Isak is into guys. Because I am a guy, and I am into him.

And I have to stand here and watch him dance and make out with a girl.

Sonja comes over and grabs my hand. “Let’s dance!”

She’s a great dancer, and a great kisser, too. We move into the crowd of people, close together, in her one hand she’s holding her drink while her other slides around my neck. Our lips meet and we kiss as the lyrics of the song that’s playing mess with my brain, leaving me with a sense of foreboding.

_Call your girlfriend_

_It's time you had the talk_

_Give your reasons_

_Say it's not her fault_

_But you just met somebody new_

I can’t believe this song is actually playing right now. Is it sending me some kind of message? My lips are still attached to Sonja’s, but my mind is somewhere else and I look up.

Again, our eyes lock over the crowd in the room. He’s dancing with Emma, she’s kissing him. But his mind is somewhere else as well. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. It turns me on.

A little more heroin courses through my veins.

The party ends rather abruptly. People are heading out to go to the revue party, in a club downtown. Eva (she’s the third girl in the Kose group committee) shouts through the room that she ordered cabs. Emma’s talking with Sonja while Isak starts cleaning up the many empty beer cans, glasses and bottles. I look at him and an idea starts to form in my mind.

I’m going to get him alone with me in a room somewhere, somehow, tonight.

Sonja suggests taking a cab together. We’ve come by bike, but she thinks a cab is better, since it’s so cold outside. Emma says she’ll ask Isak to join us.

I see he’s shaking his head at her, and seconds later she tells us he’s going by bike.

I instantly adapt. “I’ll go by bike, too,” I say to Sonja. “I don’t mind the cold, I like to clear my head.”

She nods. “Fine. I’ll see you there?”

She gives me a quick kiss and walks out of the apartment, Emma in her wake. The room empties out, and I don’t see Isak anywhere. He must be in the kitchen. I look around to take in the mess, the whole room is like a litter box. As the last person closes the door behind him, I grab a few empty beer cans and head to the kitchen.

Isak’s standing next to the sink, emptying beer cans and bottles as I enter. He looks up, surprised to see me. “Didn’t you take a cab with the others?”

“I have a bike.”

He’s silent as I empty the dregs out of a beer can in the sink. I look at him; he looks really cute, still a bit startled. Someone has put some pink fluorescent paint on his cheeks, which makes him look very young, somehow. Young and innocent.

“Did you have a good time with Emma?” I ask.

“She’s keen.”

He’s not very talkative. I wonder if he’s a little mad at me. I suppose he is. It was an asshole move of me to not tell him about Sonja. I led him on, I know I did. I’m still leading him on.

I can’t help myself.

But now I feel like I do owe him some sort of explanation. “You know that Sonja and I have been dating since we were like, fifteen or something?” I ask.

Isak busies himself with the glasses and cans. “Okay,” is all he says in reply.

“And I can tell we’re drifting further and further apart.” He looks up now, in surprise, but only for a second, before he turns back to cleaning.

“But I can’t dump Sonja,” I confess.

“Okay?” he says.

His lack of response is frustrating me. I’m going to try something else.

“Because if I dump Sonja,” I say. “She’ll think I’m doing it because of her aluminum leg.”

This finally gets his attention. He turns around. “Hmm?”

“You didn’t know?” I ask, all serious now.

“Aluminum leg?” Isak says, he sounds astounded, and I have to push myself to keep my poker face. I’m kind of enjoying messing with him.

“Yeah. Her entire foot is amputated,” I say.

“What? How did that happen?” Isak asks.

“She stepped on a landmine at Tjøme when she was nine years old. Blew off the entire left foot.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“But she’s doing better. She’s gotten a lot of help from, uhm, from good—” Ugh, I have a hard time trying not to laugh. “What’s it called? Physiotherapists, in developing her motor skills. And, you know, the aluminum technology has come a long way.”

I’m making this up as I go. “You can barely tell she’s limping at all,” I add.

He starts to smile. A little lopsided grin that makes my heart jump.

“You’re joking?” he asks.

I chuckle as he repeats his question. “You’re joking? Yeah?”

I nod and laugh out loud.

“Fucking shit,” Isak swears. “How can you joke about something like that?”

“Do you really think there are land mines at Tjøme?” I ask, snickering. I turn to him and close the distance between us. It happens almost involuntarily, but I feel this need to be closer to him.

“I don’t fucking know,” he says. “Who jokes—I mean. You can’t joke about things like that.”

“Hey, I could’ve joked about something much worse.”

“No,” Isak disagrees. “You couldn’t have. Because it’s a very serious thing to joke about.”

“I could have joked about her having a dick,” I say. “That would’ve been too far.”

“Dick,” he repeats, as he casts his glance down to the floor.

“Too far,” I say.

“I don’t think aluminum technology was…” Isak says.

“Oh, so that’s what gave me away?”

He nods, looking down again, and I wonder what’s on the floor that’s so interesting. The atmosphere has changed slightly. I’m nervous, my stomach fluttering.

I’m alone with him. There’s no one else here. He’s being all cute and adorable and extremely beautiful. He’s my drug and I’m addicted.

“But…” he says, “she’s cute.”

His eyes touch mine for a brief second before he returns his stare to the floor. “Sonja.” It comes out as a sigh.

She’s forgotten as soon as her name leaves his lips. He’s drawing me like a moth to a flame without even knowing it. I step forward, standing really close to him now. Towering over his downcast head. Why is he looking down? I want him to look at me and make a move. But he’s not doing anything.

I have to do this all alone. I bow my head, and lean in. My forehead touches his temple, I feel his hair tickling against my skin and finally, finally, he leans in. His lips a fraction away from mine. Within the next second we’ll kiss. And I will know...

What he feels like and how he tastes and how his touch will affect me.

Thump!

The front door closes loudly and we both jerk away, startled.

Isak looks up and walks out of the kitchen to the living room. I follow him, cursing whoever it is, for taking this away from me.

_Why?_

I ask silently to every god who wants to listen.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why is this happening to me?

I’m not an addict.

 

Maybe that’s a lie.

 

It's over now, I'm cold, alone

I'm just a person on my own

Nothing means a thing to me

Oh, nothing means a thing to me

 

Free me, leave me

Watch me as I'm going down

Free me, see me

Look at me I'm falling

And I'm falling

It’s not a habit, it’s cool

I feel alive

I’m not an addict (maybe that’s a lie.)

  * K’s Choice, I’m Not An Addict



  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song quoted: Robyn, Call Your Girlfriend


	6. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I want is to fucking kiss him already... Can I? Would he let me? Or would he push me away?
> 
> Stop overthinking it and do it already!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter collaborates with episode 4 from season 3.

 

There’s a girl standing in the living room. A pretty girl with blonde hair falling down on her shoulders. She’s wearing a bright red lipstick that suits her very well.

“Noora?” Isak asks. “What?”

“Hi,” she replies. “I’m sorry for intruding. I just came back from London and I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Her bottom lip wobbles and I can tell she’s pretty upset although she’s trying to hide it.

Isak suddenly goes into caring mode—a mode I didn’t know he had. “It’s okay,” he says as he walks to her. “Come.”

He takes the suitcase from her and leads her to the couch. “I’m calling Eskild to come home, okay?”

“No, no, don’t call him,” Noora says. “I don’t want to bother him.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Isak waves away her objection. “He’s going to want to know you’re here.”

I stare at Isak and Noora and feel like an intruder. “I think I’ll go,” I say. “Unless you need me for something here?”

Noora looks up at me from the couch. “Don’t go on my behalf. I’ll be fine.” She stands up and extents a hand out to me. “I’m Noora.”

“Even,” I say as I shake her hand and smile at her. “So, you’ve been to London?”

She nods, looking pale and I’m instantly sorry for saying anything. “I was planning to leave, anyway,” I say. “Are you still going to the club?” I ask Isak.

“No,” he says, “I’m staying home.”

“Okay,” I try to establish some eye contact with him, but he doesn’t look at me. “Maybe we can catch up tomorrow?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says and now he looks up. I see a hint of excitement in his eyes which reassures me.

Good. He’s still in for meeting me, for being with me.

* * *

I wake up around eleven thirty in the morning, feeling wasted. I drank too much in that club last night.

After leaving Isak’s I decided to go there. Sonja expected me to be there, so I had to go. It was better than giving her another reason to nag. But then I drank too much and she nagged me about that. I went home alone. Didn’t feel like spending any more time with her.

I’m alone either way, with or without her.

My phone buzzes and I grab it from the nightstand. Sonja.

Does it seem strange that I’m really relieved? Yesterday, I told Isak she and I were drifting apart, more and more. Yet I don’t want that. I can’t dump her, can I? And what for? I don’t have any good reason to dump her. None at all.

My phone buzzes again.

Isak.

Fuck.

My plans for today? Everything inside me tells me to ditch Sonja and text him back that I want to spend it with him. Throw away everything to be with him. Just to be with him. I want that.

The doorbell rings.

She’s already here. And I can’t dump her. Not now, not ever. I think I’ll have to go through a withdrawal to get rid of this addiction. I text him back while opening the door for my girlfriend.

* * *

On every locker in the hallway hangs a flyer for a Halloween event this Friday. I take one and examine it. It sounds like fun, dressing up, acting like you’re someone else. There’s something in it that’s appealing. Hide away your own insecurities, your own self. To pretend, to lie. Escape the now for an hour or maybe two.

How soon is now?

This is an intriguing question. It’s also the title of a song.

When you say it’s gonna happen now? Well, when exactly do you mean?

The song is from The Smiths. My father plays their music a lot. They’re a British band from the eighties. Also, the song is covered by t.A.T.u., a Russian band which consists of two girls who look like schoolgirls and act like lesbians on stage. Not that I’m complaining.

Now arrives sooner than I thought when I see Isak entering through the double doors and walking to his locker. I look at him from a distance for a while, watching him struggle to open his locker. He’s wearing a green jacket today. Moss green, a colour very similar to his eyes.

Okay, I’ve waited long enough. I’ve already waited too long.

Live in the now.

I walk to him while he’s still fighting with his locker. Now he’s trying to open it with a library card.

“Hello,” I say.

He looks up, “Hi!”

“Are you going to the Halloween thing or what?” I ask.

“Uh, no. Or, maybe? I don’t know.” He’s so cute when he’s stammering like that. I smile at him as he asks, “Are you going?”

“Join me, then?”

“Okay,” he says and he nods adorably.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then we’ll pregame together?” I ask it very casually but he seems keen.

“Yeah.”

With my fist I bang at Isak’s locker and it opens. Then I leave. Now is over.

Too soon.

* * *

I like Seinfeld. Especially Kramer. Kramer is awesome. I have this meme of him saying ‘Imagine, you can walk around drunk all day.’ I’m sending it to Isak. I want some sort of contact with him. Didn’t see him today and that sucks.

He replies while my mom is calling me for dinner.

Dinner with my parents, it doesn’t happen that often, but today is one of those days. My mother had a day off and she spent it in the kitchen, it’s one of her hobbies. She’s a good cook. I wish she had more time to cook for me. I wouldn’t mind it.

What I do mind is her asking me how I’m doing. Don’t get me wrong, she can ask me, but it’s the way she asks that bothers me. Like I’m a sick person. I fucking hate that and I make sure she knows it too, by grumbling something inaudible.

“Sonja said you were making new friends in school,” she says by way of reply to my apathy.

“Has Sonja been talking about me again?” I say. “I don’t really appreciate you two talking about me behind my back.”

“That’s nonsense, Even. We’re not talking about you behind your back. And if we were, it’s a compliment. We both care about you. We have a common interest.”

“Okay,” I say, wanting to get this over with. “I did make some new friends. I’m joining the revue. Met a really nice guy.”

“Great,” my father chimes in. He doesn’t say much more, and I don’t feel the urge to elaborate on it. Part of me wants to tell them more. To tell them he’s so much more than just a nice guy. That I’m over the moon about him. That I want to move heaven and hell to be with him. To fucking kiss him already.

I don’t say any of these things to my parents. We continue our dinner in silence.

“Sonja’s coming over tonight,” my mom says, while cleaning up the table.

“Yeah, I know,” I say. I get up and help her bring the dishes to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher.

“I was wondering if you want to go out for dinner with us this Friday?” Mom asks.

Friday? No. No way. I’m supposed to hang with Isak on Friday. Pregame at his house and fucking kiss him already. I have to make up an excuse.

“I have plans with a group of friends from school,” I explain. “We’re going to a Halloween party.”

“With Sonja?” my mom wants to know. The bell rings and she leaves the kitchen to open the door.

With Sonja? No. With Isak.

But it’s Sonja who’s entering the kitchen, smiling at me as soon as she sees me. My mom is directly behind her. “You’re going to a Halloween party?” she asks Sonja, and I curse her in silence.

“I don’t know,” Sonja reaches up and kisses me softly on the lips. “Apparently? You didn’t tell me.”

It sounds like an accusation.

Reluctantly I tell her about the party and my plan to have a drink with Isak beforehand.

“That’s great! I really like his girlfriend, Emma.”

“Yeah,” I nod.

“We’ll have a great time with the four of us. I really like meeting your friends.” Sonja reaches for her phone and starts texting.

“What are you doing?” I ask, startled. Who’s she texting? What? How did I fuck this up so badly?

“I’m texting Emma,” Sonja replies. “Oh, I have a great idea!” She grabs my arm in enthusiasm. “Let’s have complementary costumes?”

“What?” I don’t understand shit right now.

“Yeah, I mean. We’ll go like a duo. Like Romeo and Juliet?” Sonja asks.

“No, not them,” I say.

“Okay, something else then.”

“Let’s go as god and an angel,” I suggest. It’s the first thing that pops into my head. I don’t know why. Maybe because Juliet dressed up like an angel. Maybe because I’m thinking I fucked this up, and I wanted to be alone with my angel and now I can’t.

What about angels?

Do they wear white robes? And do they have white feathered wings? Are they chubby and childlike or really tall and lean? Do they exist? I know at least one angel exists.

An angel is actually a messenger. That is what the word means in Greek. Angelos. A messenger from god with a message of hope. Sometimes also a message of vengeance. Like the angel in the garden of Eden. He came with a fiery sword, and his mandate was to kill everyone who dared to try to enter Eden. So I guess angels can also be guards. And then there are angels who protect. Who catch you when you fall. I wonder which one of these Isak is.

“God and an angel it is.” Sonja wakes me from my reverie. “I will take care of the costumes. You ask Isak if we can have the pregame at his place?”

* * *

 

* * *

On Friday Sonja and I go to Isak’s together. Sonja has dressed me up in white. White boxer shorts and white leggings and a white shirt and a long white sort of sheet dress over it and a white beard and a white wig. She’s dressed almost the same, except she doesn’t have a wig or a beard, she has wings instead, and a halo.

Random notion which I’m pretty sure I’ve said before: Juliet was dressed like an angel.

Emma greets us enthusiastically at Isak’s door, hugging first me and then Sonja. Isak’s in the kitchen, but sticks his head out to ask us what we want to drink.

We go to the living room and soon after Isak enters with a beer for me and a glass of red wine for Sonja. He’s dressed as Julius Caesar while Emma’s dressed like Cleopatra. They actually make a cute couple.    


No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. They’re not a couple! I refuse to believe that.

Sonja and Emma start to talk in that fast, incomprehensible way only girls know how to do. I soon lose track of all the topics they cover. The one thing that’s clear is how they like each other so much.

Fuck. If they like each other so much, why don’t they just go and fuck each other already and leave me alone with Isak. I’m so done with all the yearning. I need to kiss him.

That’s the only thing that will help me. The only thing that will satisfy me. I look at him now. He’s staring down at the can of beer in his hands, but for a second he looks up and locks eyes with me.

He wants it too.

I’m pretty sure of it.

Emma and Sonja start to talk about their age difference and how it doesn’t matter because they like each other despite of it. God. They’re such a cliché.

Sonja tells Emma she’s three years older. “It’s really nice, though, despite the age difference!”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. “No wonder... It isn’t weird that you’re from ’97, but I mean… wow.”

“It was so nice talking to you, I didn’t really notice,” Sonja says.

And then Isak speaks up for the first time. “Are you... Are you one year older than Even?”

Oh yes. That will teach me to speak the truth. He thinks I’m eighteen. One way or another, the truth will always come out.

“No, “ Sonja says.

“I’m from ’97 as well,” I confess to Isak.

“Oh,” is all he says in reply.

I wish he’d say more. Maybe shout at me for lying to him. Even if it was about something as insignificant as my age. If he’d shout it would mean he cares. I need him to care. Frustrated with him, with myself, and the whole world around me I knock back a big gulp of beer.

Sonja turns her head and frowns at me. “Can you please take it easy on the beer?”

“Can you stop babysitting me?” I spit out before I can stop myself. “I mean it. Stop monitoring me.”

Sonja gets up from the couch, clearly very pissed off at me. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asks Isak and walks out of the room, not even waiting for his answer.

“Into the hall and to the right,” Isak replies to her back.

The three of us are left staring off into the middle distance in silence. Then Emma stands and follows Sonja out of the room.

Finally.

They’re gone.

But not for long, I’m sure. I feel extremely unhappy with this whole situation, and all I know is that I want to get out of here.

“I heard that a lot of people will be going to the party,” Isak says.

Yeah whatever. Fuck that party.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Hmm?”

“What time is it?”

Isak checks his phone. “21:21.”

“Seriously?” It seems to me some sort of fate. Some sort of message.

21:21

Did you know that Genesis 21 tells us the story of the birth of Isak? 

Also, 21:21 is an angel number. An angel number is like a message from your personal guardian angel. He’s like guiding you, communicating to you, giving you a sign. Every number has a meaning. 21:21 stands for taking up new directions, for new beginnings. And these new roads will take us to the fulfillment of our personal happiness. I’m going to take a new direction right now. And I’m taking Isak with me. 

Isak checks again. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Let’s get out of here.” I say. I take a last sip of beer and get up.

Isak asks, “Where to?”

“Anywhere.”

_ As long as I’m with you I don’t really care where we go, my dear. _

We’re heading out of Isak’s apartment via the backdoor without taking anything with us, not even our coats. As soon as we’re outside my mood changes from moody to giddy.

My bike is standing on the sidewalk. I walk over, grab it and shout, “Jump on, Isak!” before I start pedalling. We need to get away as soon as possible.

And Isak jumps. He’s taking this leap with me. I feel it as his weight on the back of the bike makes it wobble. I jerk on the handlebars and laugh as I feel Isak’s hands on my sides, gabbing at the fabric of my sheet-dress to steady himself.

“You got me?” I ask.

“I got you.” He replies and he laughs. He seems to be happier too, now. He’s got me.

I wonder if he knows how true those words are.

His happiness feels like the waves of the ocean gently washing over my feet on a hot summer’s day. Refreshing. Invigorating.

I feel like I can breathe again.

My feet pedal. We’re flying through the night air, and despite our lack of coats I don’t feel the cold.

“Where are we going?” Isak asks from behind me.

“To the stars,” I reply, and he laughs again. He’s so precious.

I’m not really paying attention to where we’re going. I’m randomly taking lefts and rights until we ride through a fancy neighbourhood. This place I recognize from a long time ago. One of my friends from elementary school lives here. Or at least, he used to live here -- I don’t know if he still does. But what I do remember is his pool.

To swim!

To swim with Isak. That would be perfect. I remember Romeo and Juliet and their pool kiss and I’m thinking how fucking romantic it will be to do that with Isak.

_ Breathe, keep breathing. _

_ Don't lose your nerve. _

I quickly turn left and cycle to the right street. The house is still there! And I remember the low window through which we can climb into the cellar, where the small indoor pool is.

“I feel like going for a swim, don’t you?” I call out and stop the bike. I get off and start walking to the house.    


“A swim?” Isak asks from behind me. 

“Yeah,” I say over my shoulder and walk over the large driveway to the window. Behind me I hear the thumb of the bike falling to the ground, as Isak gets off and follows me. 

Inside, the pool lights up a beautiful soft blue. The whole room breathes a tranquil atmosphere. I squat down and try to open the window.

“Who lives here?” Isak comes to my side and looks down on me working the window.

“My aunt,” I say casually.

“And she’s okay with us being here?” Isak asks.

“Of course!” I say. “Don’t worry.”

“But where’s your aunt?”

He’s not leaving it alone, is he?

“She’s on vacation,” I make this up as I go. He’s reluctant already, if he finds out this isn’t my aunt’s house he might bail on me.

“Okay. Why don’t you have a key then?” He asks.

“Because she’s on vacation.”

“Yeah, that’s the answer to everything.” Isak sounds skeptical about the whole idea.

“Relax! Don’t worry,” I say. Now that we’re here I don’t want to go back, I want to swim! I want my Romeo and Juliet kiss.

The window finally opens. “There we go. You’re coming?” I slide in and squat down to feel 

the water temperature. It’s perfect.

“The water’s nice.”

Isak follows me inside but he still doesn’t look too sure. I check him out, thinking he looks incredibly good. He’s wearing gray, tight fitting pants with a darker gray sweater. Over it a dark red scarf and a golden laurel on his head, his Caesar costume. 

“Okay,” he says hesitantly.

“Okay!” I repeat. “Why are you being so skeptical?”

I start to undress. I undo the belt that is holding the white garment together around my waist. This wig and beard are annoying me. I pull them away from my head, while Isak takes off his shoes.

“I’m not skeptical, but it’s a little weird that we’re going to…” Isak’s voice wanders off.

“What’s up? Are you afraid to go swimming or what?” I ask.

“Afraid to go swimming?” He repeats, sounding incredulous.

“Are you afraid of water?” I ask.

“Afraid of water?” Now he’s offended. Good.

“Afraid of water, yes.” I laugh.

“Oy,” he says. It’s the cutest little sound. “But I just, I mean… Like, it’s not  _ my _ aunt’s house.”

“Oh.” He’s still on that. I have to change the subject before he backs out. I watch him remove the laurel and the red scarf. “So it’s just that you’re a little scared that it will fuck up your hair.”

“Do you think I care about my hair?”

“What else am I to believe?” I’m laughing. I feel even more giddy than I did when we left Isak’s house. “It does look a bit like it.”

“Does it look like I care about my hair?”

“Well, not right now. But like, normally.”

Suddenly he turns and pushes me. I fall in the water with a loud splash, but just before I do I reach my hand back and grab his shirt, pulling him right along with me. “Fuck,” I shout while we fall.

Under water everything shines. There’s a large lamp lighting us, casting a white glow over everything blue. I see Isak has already surfaced, but I stay under. I’m waiting until my lungs start to burn. I need oxygen, I need to breathe. I’m pushing it a little further though, until I can’t take it anymore and I surface.

Isak looks at me. “Did you think I died?” I ask him.

He laughs. “Yeah, I was so scared.”

I bet he was!

“You suck at holding your breath,” he adds. He’s smiling and I’m thoroughly enjoying my view. His soaking wet sweater is clinging to his skin. I see the swell of his biceps through it, and I long to touch him. To hold him.

“I suck?” I say. “Fuck you. You try it then.”

“Are you challenging me?” His smile widens, making the curves in his cheeks stand out even more. “You shouldn’t. I’m a master at holding my breath.”

“Of course,” I say. “Show me. Show me.”

“Okay, fine.” He’s taking in a mouthful of air and pinches his nose before he goes under. He doesn’t stay under long at all.

I’m laughing out loud when he surfaces after about five seconds, maybe even less. “Wow. You never cease to impress.”

“I got water in my lungs.”

“Yeah, right.” He’s making up lame excuses.

“I swallowed water!” He exclaims.

“Okay.” I’m not buying it.

“Yes!” he says, trying to persuade me. “I need to do it one more time.”

“Let’s do it together.” Finally got him where I want him. We’ll take this dive together. We’re going under.

“Together?”

“Yes. On three?”

Isak nods. “The last to surface is the winner.”

“Okay. We go together on three.” I’m holding up three fingers. “No, on one. Three…”

He’s mouthing the countdown with me. “Two.”

“One.” I take a deep breath. 

The world recedes as we go under.

Isak’s glowing in the white-blue light. His shirt runs up, showing me his bare chest. He looks so perfect. I need to kiss him. But can I? Will he let me? I'm so scared that he won't let me.  


Without knowing exactly why I do it I reach out a hand and grab his throat. Like Mercutio grabs Romeo’s throat. To extract some sort of reaction out of him. What will he do?

I guess I want to make him lose. He pushes my hand away, a crease appearing on his forehead.

I forgot how to breathe.

You can’t breathe under water.

I need to win. I need to kiss him. But what will he do? Will he accept it? Will he kiss me back? It was his idea to make this into a competition though. If I kiss him and he doesn’t want me to, I can always blame it on wanting to make him lose. Building myself a safety net here, god knows I need one.

Stop overthinking it and do it already! I swim toward him, closing in on him. The crease on his forehead deepens, he’s confused. I barely register it. I need to kiss him.

Three.

Two.

One.

My lips press against his. They’re soft. Not warm though, in the water. But it’s electrifying nonetheless. He tastes like chlorine, which isn’t much of a surprise.

He’s startled. Despite our almost kiss from last week he didn’t expect me to do it. He pushes himself up and surfaces. I follow him instantly. I need to breathe.

“Yes!” I call out as soon as I have enough oxygen.

“Yes what?” Isak asks.

“I won!” I beam at him, feeling triumphant.

“No!” He shakes his head.

“Are you kidding?”

“That was cheating!”

“What is?” I want him to say it. To say that I kissed him. I want to know how it was for him. It was such a short kiss. Only a brief peck, really. Leaving me wanting more.

“Yeah, it’s cheating.”

He’s not saying it.

“You think there are any rules here?”

“Uh, yeah?!”

I swim around him so we’re both facing the other way now.

“Like, what are you even thinking?” I ask. 

Please tell me what you think. Can’t you see I’m dying over here?

“I mean, that’s just cheating.” He keeps repeating himself. “That’s just…That’s not allowed. I won’t accept losing because of something like that!”

“Okay, let’s try it again then.”

He nods and we go under. The ball is in his court now.

Once more the world recedes. Under water we’re in another universe. Everything glows in the incandescent light. Isak most of all.

He’s an angel who protects. He’s going to catch me when I fall. And I’m falling.

I’m falling.

And he’s there. His eyes fix on mine and then he surges forward and our lips meet. It’s as if my whole body sighs in relief. He kisses me with a softness and a determination that is unexpected. I kiss him back, as well as it goes under water. I’m nibbling on his upper lip. His hand reaches for me.

I can’t breathe.

We go up together now. Surface together. Our lips still locked and I’m soaring. He’s holding on to me, both his hands on my arms. My hands cup his face as we kiss. We kiss! We finally kiss and I know now.

I know.

I can’t breathe without him. Or live without him.

We break apart for just a second, so I can take him in. My eyes grazing hungrily over his face, and I smile and move forward and he does, too. And we kiss again.

We kiss.

And I know.

_ The world is by far more lucent than it was before. _

Isak breaks off the kiss too soon and turns his head. I follow his gaze and see a little girl standing at the edge of the pool, staring at us in pure horror. She opens her mouth and screams, “Mama!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I say, as I start to swim to the edge.

“What the hell?” Isak shouts behind me. “Who the fuck is she?”

I climb out of the pool and hurriedly grab my stuff. “Uh, it’s not my aunt’s house.”

“So who lives here then?!” Isak is out of the water now, and I start climbing out of the window.

“Someone I went to elementary school with,” I say.

Isak climbs out after me and I grab his arms to pull him up. I’m laughing because I think the whole thing is hilarious and exhilarating. We run soaking wet into the night’s air towards the bike.

“Go, go, go,” Isak shouts as I grab the bike and start cycling. He’s jumping on the back and takes a hold of me, both his arms around my waist and I feel his face pressed against my back.

“God. It’s cold,” he says.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” I say. I’m not really feeling it, the cold.

I feel the air in my lungs.

I feel his arms around me.

I feel I can breathe.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: ‘When you say it’s gonna happen now? Well, when exactly do you mean?’ is a line in the song ‘How Soon is Now’ from The Smiths.
> 
> Second disclaimer: ‘Breathe, keep breathing, don’t lose your nerve’ is a line in the song ‘Exit Song (From a Movie) from Radiohead. This is the actual exit song of Romeo + Juliet
> 
> Third disclaimer: ‘By far more lucent than it was before’ is a line from Dante’s Paradiso


	7. Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is so soft here, in Isak's bed. His lips the softest of it all. I need more softness in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter runs parallel with the first half of episode 5.

Wake.. from your sleep

The drying of your tears

Today we escape, we escape

 

Pack.. and get dressed

Before your father hears us

Before all hell breaks loose

 

Breathe, keep breathing

Don't lose your nerve

Breathe, keep breathing

I can't do this alone

 

Sing.. us a song

A song to keep us warm

There's such a chill, such a chill

\-        Radiohead, exit movie (from a film)

* * *

We arrive at Isak’s house, both of us shivering from the cold in our wet clothes. 

“We’ll get sick,” Isak says.

“Yeah,” I agree, “We’ll have to stay in bed together for the rest of the weekend, I think.”

He smiles widely at that. God, he’s beautiful. My guardian angel.

We hurry upstairs and Isak pushes me to the bathroom. “There are towels in there, I’ll get you something dry to wear.”

Inside his bathroom I strip, dropping the wet clothes on the floor and rubbing myself dry and warm with a towel. All the while my mind is going a thousand thoughts an hour. What to do next? What will Isak do? Should I stay here? Should I go? Will we kiss again? I want that. But does he?

I wrap the towel around my waist and start to wring out my clothes. What to do with them?

There’s a knock on the door and Isak opens it slightly. “I’ve got some clothes I think will fit.”

I reach for the doorknob and open the door further. He’s changed his outfit. That’s the first thing I notice. Gray sweatpants and a hoodie. In his hand he’s holding a pile of garments. I take them from him. “Thanks!”

He’s looking at me, gazing at my bare chest. I tilt my head a little to the right and smile at him. “I’ll put them on,” I tell him.

“Yeah,” he nods. I see a blush appear on his cheeks, which makes me smile even wider. “Uhm… Do you want a drink or something?”

“Sure.”

He turns and walks to the kitchen and I close the door. He’s given me another pair of sweatpants, a pair of shorts, a white t-shirt with a crucified Jesus on it and a blue hoodie. I like the color of that hoodie. I think I’m going to keep it. I like the shirt, too. Provocative with a wink to Catholicism.

When I’m dressed I walk out of the bathroom, my wet clothes in my hand. “Isak,” I call out in the hallway.

"Yeah, I’m in here.”

I follow his voice to a bedroom. His bedroom. I feel a bit uneasy. Entering his bedroom is taking a significant next step in this relationship. And I don’t even know what this relationship is.

Carefully I open the door. He’s sitting on his bed holding a can of beer. Another one is standing on the yellow night stand behind him.

“Hi,” he says. “Do they fit?”

“Yeah they fit, but, uhm,” I show him my wet clothes, “What do I do with these?”

“Oh yeah, give them to me. I’ll hang them on the drying frame on the balcony.”

He stands up and points to the beer on the nightstand while he takes my wet clothes. “That one’s for you.”

After he leaves the room I look around to take it all in. There’s a Baywatch poster on the wall, some clippings and comics cut from newspapers. The window is covered with an orange cloth pretending to be a curtain. Clothes are strewn around and on one of the shelves of his bookcase I see a lava lamp. A lava lamp! That’s so nineties, wow!

I love the nineties. I love nineties movies. I love nineties music. I love lava lamps, too!

I jump on Isak’s bed to take the beer from the nightstand and then go to sit with my back against the wall and my legs stretched out in front of me. Isak returns and the sight of him causes my stomach to flutter. I’m nervous, somehow. He seems nervous too as he walks to the bed and goes to sit next to me.

“I like your room,” I say as I wrap an arm around him. “Especially this Baywatch poster.” I point to the poster over my head. Isak leans against me, his head on my shoulder. His hair tickles against my face. I pull him a little closer, my cheek nuzzling him.

“Hmm,” he hums. I don’t know if it’s in agreement with what I said about the Baywatch poster or if it’s because he’s really content. Probably the latter, I’m going with the latter.

He moves, turning his head slightly and lifting it upwards. I lean in and feel the warmth of his lips against mine. There’s no taste of chlorine this time, it’s beer now. Beer and something else I can’t place. An innate Isakness, I’ll call it. He tastes incredible. I part his lips with mine and softly stroke with my tongue against his lower lip before I slide it in his mouth.

It feels like…

He feels like…

I’m totally stunned and lost for words. Infatuated, my ass. I’ve taken infatuation to the next level. Never will I grow tired of kissing him. From the feel of his lips against mine. His tongue stroking mine. So soft.

He’s making me feel like…

I can only think of stupid clichés like ‘heaven.’ Fucking heaven.

His hand comes up and brushes my neck, his fingers weaving through my hair. My stomach has taken fluttering to the next level, too.

We kiss.

Oh my freaking fucking god of goodness we kiss and it feels the feels it feels so good and I can never ever get enough and my thoughts are going like oh my god I love this so much and I’m so happy and I could stay here forever stay here forever and kiss him forever and never do anything else no food or drink or joint or cigarette or beer I don’t need anything else but to kiss him but to kiss him to kiss him to kiss him.

That’s all.

That’s it.

It does end eventually though. We break apart and I nuzzle my nose in his hair. We drink our beer in silence. Isak says he’s tired and I tell him to go to sleep.

“What about you?” he says. “You’re staying?”

“Can I?” I ask.

He nods, “Of course. Need to borrow my toothbrush?” He raises his eyebrows at me, looking so adorably cute and hot with his gorgeous green eyes.

“Sure,” I say.

“I’m kidding, though. I’ll get you a new one,” he says. “I think I have one here. I just bought it.”

He gets up from the bed and rummages through his stuff until he holds out a red toothbrush. “Here you go!”

We go to the bathroom and brush our teeth together. It’s so domestic somehow. And it feels so normal, so terribly mundane. As if we’ve been doing this together our entire life. And I’m loving it so much because of that.

Back in his bedroom we crawl under the covers of his bed. I’m lying on my back, my arm around him and his head on my shoulder. My hand is trailing through his hair as I pepper his face with soft kisses. In reply Isak hums again. I love it when he does that.

He seems pretty tired though, so soon enough he drifts off. But I’m wide awake, staring at his ceiling. Normally I’d take medication before I go to bed, to make sure I sleep, but I didn’t bring it with me. This spending the night thing wasn’t planned. So now I have to make do without. This is going to be a wakeful night, I’m sure. No meds while my mind is still soaring with happiness.

But somehow I don’t mind it. I don’t mind staying up with this incredibly hot boy asleep in my arms. I really don’t mind.

I’m replaying tonight’s events over and over again as night turns into morning. The pool. The kiss. The little girl. Isak with his arms around me on my bike. Isak with his arms around me in his bed. It’s like the best movie I’ve ever seen. My own movie. With Isak Valtersen as the main character. It’s Oscar worthy, I’m telling you!

Eventually I do fall asleep. The sun is already peeping through the orange cloth pretending to be a curtain. Which means it’s about eight thirty in the morning.

 

When I wake up, Isak is still lying next to me, awake now. I feel him stir a little in my arms. 

“Good morning,” I say.

“Morning?” I hear the smile in his voice. “It’s almost one in the afternoon.”

“What? Are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

Wow. I guess sleeping with Isak in his bed works so well that I don’t need meds. I’m high on him anyways.

“Are you hungry?” Isak asks. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”

He gets up, but before he can leave the bed I take hold of his arm and pull him to me. Our lips meet and it has the same effect on me as it had last night.

Heaven.

I hate to be a cliché, but I am. I can’t help it right now. I don’t even want to help it.

 

Isak enters the room with a plate of cheese sandwiches. “I didn’t have any cardamom,” he says, “so this will have to do.”

I didn’t even realize I was hungry until now. Together we finish the sandwiches in no time. Isak gets up from the bed and searches through his stuff.

“What ya doing?” I ask.

“Looking for this,” he says and he holds up a bag with weed in it. “Going to roll some smokes!”

He smiles his gorgeous smile and I smile back. “Let’s!”

He goes to sit on the bed, rolls a joint, and lets himself fall backwards, his head on my legs. He lights the smoke, takes a drag and passes it to me. As I take it from him, I sit up, shift his head off my legs and follow his example, lying squarely on the bed, mirroring him. My face inches away from his.

The joint makes me a bit hazy, sedated. It helps to get rid of a nagging feeling inside my stomach. Something I don’t want to pay attention to. Something I don’t want to deal with.

I shift my head to the right just as Isak moves his head to me. My lips encase his upper lip as his hand reaches up and his fingers trail through my hair. It’s so soft. Everything is soft. His fingers. His lips. This bed. This joint. The world.

Like feathers and pillows and fluffiness and nuzzling and pink clouds and cat’s fur and fabric softener and chocolate melting in my mouth and red velvet cake and Isak’s lips.

We talk about movies. I ask him which was the last one he saw.

“It was one about an ex-con who hangs out with this fifteen-year-old boy,” he says.

“What movie was that?”

“Hmm, some Nicholas Cage movie. Where he doesn’t overplay it.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I think so.”

His voice is also soft. Everything about him is soft. I love softness. I need more of it in my life and in the world in general. I never knew how much I missed it until now. Goes to show.

Time passes, but the softness stays. We stay in bed all day, just as I said we would. We kiss, we nuzzle, we cuddle. It’s the definition of softness.

The only dissonance is the buzzing of my phone, which I industriously ignore.

“I think life’s just like a movie, and that you can be the director of your own life,” I say. Isak’s lying on his side with his head on my shoulder. I look down into his eyes. “Do you get what I mean?”

Isak nods. “I do. But I’m not sure I completely agree.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No.” He smiles. “What is really interesting is infinity.”

“What do you mean?” I gently rub my hand over his back.

“All those parallel universes. Everything-, like, just how big everything is. How insignificant we are compared to all of the infinite parallel universes that exist. And everything that can happen will happen. Not only will happen, it is happening.” He’s silent for a while as I ponder his words.

How insignificant we are…

“There’s probably, in a parallel universe, an Isak and an Even who are lying in the exact same way, in the exact same place, only that, you know…” He chuckles. “There’s like, a curtain with a different colour, or whatever.”

I look up at the orange cloth pretending to be a curtain. “So, yellow curtains then?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” I say. “I think that’s enough jay for you.”

I laugh, but I don’t feel it.

How insignificant we are. To be honest, that thought scares the hell out of me.

“Have you never thought about that?” Isak asks.

“Well, yeah. But it’s just making me feel so…” I’m trying to voice my thoughts, it’s a little difficult to focus. My head seems filled with cotton balls. “I don’t know, lonely.”

“It’s so interesting!” Isak interrupts.

“No, I don’t like it,” I admit.

“Why not?” He honestly sounds a little disappointed. It makes me want to change my mind. To agree with him if that makes him happy.

“I don’t know,” I reply. I can’t agree with him. “It freaks me out.”

Isak chuckles and swears under his breath. “In what way? It freaks you out…”

“Not freaked out the way you get by a horror movie, but like…” God, why is it so difficult to voice my thoughts. “More of a ‘feeling alone’ sort of freaked out. That’s like… It’s your head. It’s you and your head, and all of your thoughts.”

“Alone in your head? What do you mean?” Clearly Isak’s not getting what I’m at.

“A ’the brain is alone’ feeling,” I say. I close my eyes and see the colours of the sky in winter. Purple, black, dark blue. I can almost smell the cumin cheese. It really freaks me out. No one can really understand it. No one knows what I know and feels what I feel. No one else thinks cumin cheese on crackers is loneliness.

I don’t want to think about this now.

Isak is not catching on. “What kind of feeling, ‘the brain is alone’?”

“Because there’s only you and your thoughts, you know?” I try to explain it to him. I want him to understand. Somehow it’s extremely important to me that he understands. “You can’t escape your thoughts. The only way to do that is to die.”

“That’s really dark though,” Isak says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “But have you never thought about it before?”

“No.”

“Jeez, I’d forgotten how young you are!”

He chuckles while there’s a knock on the door. Isak lifts his head. “What is it?”

I recognize Eskild’s voice on the other side of the door. “Are you going to stay in there all day?”

“I’m sleeping.” Isak yells back.

He’s not going to tell Eskild that I’m in here. I can’t help but snicker a little. It’s just, I don’t really understand it. He’s so closeted. Why? What is he so afraid of? That Eskild, out of all people, would judge him? Eskild’s gay as hell. I guess it means he’s not ready, yet. To face the world.

“Okay?” Eskild sounds a bit frustrated. “Whose shoes are that in the hall?”

“Those are, uh…” Isak needs an excuse now. “They’re Jonas’s. I borrowed them.”

“Okay.”

Isak lies his head back on my shoulder. “Fuck… Fucking babysitter,” he growls.

I’m secretly happy Eskild interrupted our conversation though. He gives me a great excuse to change the subject to more interesting matters than loneliness and alternative universes. 

“How did you end up in this shared apartment?” I ask.

“Uh… It was basically just that, heh. There was this one night I was really drunk. And then I met Eskild-” He stops talking.

Was the story over? I think not. 

“Okay,” I say, “So he picked you up, then?”

“No! Or, I don’t fucking know. I actually don’t remember.” He sighs deeply. “I think he just felt sorry for me, because… yeah, like I said, I was really drunk and…”

Okay here’s what I know: Isak is a master at stammering. He’s taking stammering to a new level.

“My dad had just left my mom, you know… So… Yeah.” He’s taking stammering to a newer level. “He… The thing was, I didn’t want to go home, so… he took me here. And then… blah, blah, blah.”

I’m laughing, I can’t help it. “Blah, blah, blah,” I repeat. “Good story!”

He makes the cutest little purring sound. “You can have it. Make a movie.”

“I will make a movie about you,” I say as I pull him a little closer. “Do you want to know what it’s going to be called?”

“What?” his voice is soft now.

So soft. I need more softness in my life.

“The boy who couldn’t hold his breath underwater,” I say and I laugh out loud.

My phone buzzes.

“That sounds like a pompous, shitty movie,” Isak replies.

My phone buzzes.

“And by the way,” Isak says, ignoring the buzz together with me, which I’m grateful for. “I can hold my breath under water. It’s just that I got a drop of water in my throat.”

My phone buzzes.

“A drop of water in your throat, yeah?”

My phone buzzes.

“Hmmm,” he nods.

My phone buzzes.

I can’t ignore it anymore. Reluctantly I take it out of my pocket and unlock it.

Seven missed calls. Five from Sonja, two from my parents. Nine text messages. Eight from Sonja, one from my mom.

****_  
_

 

I stare at the screen.

Fuck.

I don’t want to face them. Don’t want to face the world today.

“Sonja?” Isak asks.

I sigh deeply, “I’m so fucked now.”

My hand reaches up to caress Isak’s hair. It’s so soft.

“Can’t I just stay here with you forever?” I ask. He lifts his head and looks at me. His eyes tell me that he understands. That he gets it. I don’t want to face the world. He gets it. He doesn’t answer me though.

“Can I?” I repeat.

“You can,” he says. He scoots a little closer to me and our lips meet again. For the trillionth time today I kiss him. His hand comes up and cups my neck. His eyes are closed now. I kiss his forehead, his cheek and then his lips again. When I let go he smiles at me.

God. He’s so beautiful.

I text my mother.

 

The afternoon slowly turns into evening. We’re not coming out of his room. We’re staying in here forever.

What about forever?

It means there won’t be an end. It will always remain. The only way to keep something forever is to lose it. The only forever that exists is the forever of death. I don’t want to think about it so I push it away and focus on Isak instead. On the softness of his kisses.

Isak falls asleep. He looks so young and innocent in sleep. I watch him sleep for hours. I can’t sleep. Disturbing thoughts of loneliness and forever enter my brains. It’s so annoying.

Finally I get up and search for a piece of paper and a pen. I start drawing. Drawing has always been a coping mechanism for me. I draw Isak in a square frame. With his cap. His hair curling from underneath it. I love those little curls. A drop of water in his throat. In the second frame I draw him again. This time without a drop of water.

‘The same time in a completely different place in the universe.’ I write down.

I can’t sleep. I want to escape but I don’t know how. Lyrics from Nas enter my mind.

_ I kick my thoughts alone, get remanded. Born alone, die alone, no crew to keep my crown or throne. I’m deep by sound alone, caved inside, 1,000 miles from home. _

I can’t sleep. Sleep is the cousin of death.

I need to get out of here. Sort my thoughts. Face reality.

Isak deserves it, too. For me to be honest. And real. I need to get out of hiding and face my fears and my feelings.

I’m not infatuated.

I’m in love.

I hear my own voice in my mind. Saying to Isak. 

_ You know that Sonja and I have been dating since we were like, fifteen or something? And I can tell we’re drifting further and further apart. _

I have to tell her the truth. The truth will set us free.

It’s seven in the morning when I get up from the bed. I take the picture I’ve drawn for Isak and add a little note at the top of the paper:

_ I don’t sleep cuz sleep is the cousin of death. You are hot.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Lyrics from Nas are from the song ‘The World is Yours.’ ‘Sleep is a cousin of death’ is a line from the song ‘The Message.’ Also from Nas.


	8. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter corresponds with the second half of episode 5.  
> Disclaimer: ‘See, I’ve already waited too long. And all my hope is gone’ is a line from ‘How Soon Is Now?' from The Smiths.

 

I have to face my demons.

When I open the door to my house, it’s about eight in the morning. There are noises coming from the kitchen so I go there. I find both my parents sitting at the table, having breakfast.

“Why are you both up this early on a Sunday?” I ask.

“Even!” My mom gets up and walks to me, engulfing me in a hug. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Yeah. You had us worried, son,” my dad says.

“Why? I texted you.”

“You texted us yesterday afternoon,” my mother says. “Sonja called us in the morning. We had no idea where you were.”

“I’m not a fucking child, am I?” I’m pissed now. “I’m an adult. I’m nineteen. Get off my back already.”

“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” my father says. “And don’t play dumb, Even. You know perfectly well we have a reason to worry. Remember the last time you didn’t show up?”

I remember.

I’d been drinking too much and was roaming the streets of Oslo in the middle of the night. The police picked me up. I got charged too, for public intoxication. They dropped the charges because I’m bipolar and I had a manic episode. Apparently I was not accountable for my actions.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve left you a message sooner,” I say.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re okay,” my mom says. “But… Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“What is going on between you and Sonja? It seems to me something’s off between you two.” My mother’s voice is filled with concern.

I guess now is as good a time as any for me to spill it. Before I do I grab a mug and pour myself some coffee. Then I sit down at the table and confess.

“There  _ is _ something off. I mean… I think I’m not…” Why is it so difficult to say this?

It’s been four years. She’s been part of my life and part of my parents’ lives for four years, and I’m about to end it.

“You’re not...?” My dad raises his eyebrows. “You’re not what?”

“In love with her anymore,” I blurt out. “I still love her. But not like that. And I haven't for a long time, really. It just took me a while to understand it. To come to terms with it.”

I look up at my parents and am surprised to see understanding in their eyes. “Aren’t you guys disappointed?” I ask.

“Even, how could we be disappointed about that? I mean, it’s your heart, it’s your life,” my mother says.

“And of course we love Sonja. But you were both so young when you got together,” my father adds. “You’ve changed so much over the past years. Especially these last few months in your new school.”

“Yeah. But… uhm… She really believes we’ll have a future together,” I say. “I’m afraid to break her heart.”

It’s quiet for a little while.

“So you stay with her, even though you don’t want to?” my dad asks. “That’s not a smart move, Even. Eventually, you’ll both be unhappy. If you don’t love her, you have to break it off.”

“I don’t think I can,” I whisper.

“Why not?” my mom asks.

“Because we’ve been through so much together. She’s always got my back.”

“You know what? Take a break instead. You two have had breaks before,” my dad suggests.

That’s true. He makes a good point. A break could make it seem temporary. A break can also be final.

“I’m dreading this,” I admit.

“Obviously. It would be strange if you didn’t. But you can do it.”

I love my parents. I get out my phone to text her.

**_  
_ **

 My mother hands me a bowl of cereal and I eat while waiting for her to text back. It doesn’t take long.

 

****

Uh-oh, she sounds pissed. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised about that. I look up at my parents. Shall I tell them about Isak as well? I want to.

I’m going to.

I have to tell Sonja, so I might as well tell them.

“I’ve met someone else,” I say.

That gets their attention. “What?” my dad asks. He puts away his tablet and looks at me.

“It’s a guy,” I say.

It’s silent now. Both my parents are staring at me. Obviously neither of them expected this.

“That boy you met in school?” my mom asks, finally.

“Yeah.”

“Okay? So that’s why you want to break up with Sonja?”

“I guess so. No, I don’t know. I mean…” I’m stammering again. Ugh. Fuck.

“Okay, Even. First things first. Talk it through with Sonja.”

I love my parents. They don’t even give me a second glance at the ‘it’s a guy’ thing. Sure, they're surprised, but essentially they really don’t care about it. I knock back the rest of my coffee and leave for my room. I want to be alone now. Alone with my thoughts.

I climb into my bed and lie there, staring at the ceiling. I’m wondering if I should take my meds or not. They make me feel insipid. But maybe that’s what I need right now.

I grab the strip with pills from underneath my pillow and take one. It’s called quetiapine. It’s an anti-psychotic, but it’s also prescribed for people who are bipolar, like me.

What about bipolarity?

There are several types of this disorder. I’m diagnosed with bipolar disorder type 1. It’s considered the most severe form of the illness. It means the patient will have manic episodes and depressed episodes which can last for days, weeks even. It’s treated with medication and sessions with a psychiatrist or psychologist. I have my own psychologist, Dr. Barstad, have had him for years now. Ben (Dr. Barstad) gets me, it’s easy to talk to him. I met him in the hospital. He acted like he was a patient, I didn’t even know he was a therapist until a day later, when we had our first official appointment. It was kind of hilarious. He’s a funny guy and he’s into movies, so we always have enough to talk about.

I was pretty upset when the diagnosis came, at first. I mean, it’s a pretty bad condition and it’s not curable. You don’t go running around being happy with it. I’m bipolar for life. But as long as I take my meds and go to my therapy sessions, I’ll be fine. And I shouldn’t smoke pot.

Maybe smoking pot wasn’t my smartest move.

I fucked things up.

But Isak though. When I close my eyes he appears in my mind’s eye. Smiling. With those curves in his cheeks. His cheekbones carved in his face. Those dark eyebrows. Those green eyes.

It was all worth it. The jay. My epic fail at maintaining a successful relationship with Sonja.

It is worth it.

I think I’m in love with him. I never felt like this before. And it’s not the jay. It’s not a manic episode. It’s him. I’m in love with him.

And it makes me happier than I ever thought I’d be.

When he calls I don’t pick up though. I don’t know what to say to him. Have to talk to Sonja first. And tomorrow to Ben. And then I have to find the courage to tell Isak how I feel. And that I want to be his. And him to be mine.

He texts me next.

**_  
_ **

 

Can’t answer that either, though I’m glad he liked the drawing. And I’m glad he’s thinking about me. I’m thinking about him. I’m thinking about him all the livelong day.

 God.

 I love him.

 I love him so.

Sonja arrives right after dinner. She says she’s relieved to see me alive and well, but she’s also really mad. “I can’t believe you ditched me like that,” she says.

We’re in my bedroom. She’s sitting on the floor across from me, sipping from a cup of tea.

“I know,” I say.

“Seriously? That’s the only thing you have to say about it?” she asks. She’s getting more upset by the minute.

“I’m in love with someone else.”

There. I’ve said it. The cat’s out of the bag. And it shuts her up, too. Her eyes grow wide and she freezes. Her hand, with the cup of tea in it, hanging still in midair.

“What?” she finally says.

“I’m in love with someone else,” I repeat.

“You  _ think _ you’re in love with someone else,” she says. “You’ve been there before.”

“Maybe. But this time it’s for real.”

“Who is she?” her voice is as cold as ice now. I wonder if she’s going to pound on him when I tell her his name.

“It’s not a she,” I say.

That makes her eyes grow even wider. But realization dawns on her, too. “Is it Isak?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you saying you’re gay?”

“No.”

“Even!”

“What? I’m not gay. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“But now you’re in love with him?” She sounds more sad now and less furious. It kills me, I don’t want to hurt her. But I already did, there’s no going back now.

“I am. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be fucking sorry, Even. What the fuck! You’re telling me you’re in love with a guy? Are you manic or what?” She’s gone from sad to furious again, or maybe she’s desperate.

“Don’t be such a homophobe,” I say.

“And he has a girlfriend, too. What about her, huh? Did you cheat on me with him?”

“Okay, first of all, stop yelling. Second of all, I’m not manic. Also, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. And we kissed. But nothing else happened.”

“Asshole.”

I deserve that. She yells at me some more. I know it’s because she’s hurting, so I let her. And she’s actually the one who proposes we should take a break.

Let’s take a break.

I think that’s a fucking good idea. I tell her so, too. I also tell her that I’m quite sick of her hovering over me. At that she scrambles up from the floor. “I’ll stop that, starting now.”

And she’s out of the door and out of the house.

I shake my head a little to clear it. But I’m glad. Glad that it’s over. The hard part is over. I take out my phone and text Isak back. It’s 21:14. I decide to wait seven minutes, so that my text leaves exactly at 21:21.

**_  
_ **

 

I’m going to forget about this awful breakup with Sonja and dream about Isak tonight.

* * *

 

When I wake up on Monday I lose my nerve. I need to talk to Ben first. He’s my excuse for today. I’m ditching school.

When I wake up on Tuesday I lose my nerve. The talk with Ben went well. He encouraged me to go for it. He’s a really cool guy. He’s not blaming any of this on me being bipolar. Like Sonja does. Sometimes I think she uses my disorder as an excuse for everything. I have no excuse today. But I’m ditching school anyway. 

You know what it is? I’m scared. Scared to go and meet Isak. Scared that he’ll turn me down. I mean, being locked in his bedroom all day is something else than having an actual relationship with someone. It would practically force him out of the closet. And I’m not sure he’s ready. I’m not sure he’s willing.

It’s about twenty minutes after eight in the evening when I get a text from Isak

Wanna hang? Yeah I wanna hang. Want to do much more than hang, too. I wanna kiss him senseless! I can’t believe I wasted two days on losing my nerve. Tomorrow I’m going in. And I’m going all the way.

* * *

 

Okay. Get your act together. Today is the day. Two days of hiding is enough. I’m going to school.

It’s about ten thirty in the morning when I find out from some random person in second year where Isak is. He has PE. There’s no turning back. I’ve made up my mind and I’ve already waited too long, this has to happen now.

At the open door of the gym I come to a halt. He’s there. Wearing cute black shorts and a blue jersey which looks madly good on him. Of course, almost everything looks good on him, but that jersey though.

Why did I waste two days?

He’s attempting to play soccer, or, I don’t know what he’s attempting. It’s clear sports are not his forte.

_ Look up. _

He’s not looking up.

_ Look up. _

_ This is a siren call. If we’re meant to be you’ll hear me and you’ll look up. _

He looks up. And he sees me. I raise my eyebrows slightly, turn and walk into the locker room. He’ll follow me. He will. He has to.

And he does.

“Hi,” he says when he enters the locker room. He stands still at the entrance.

“Hello.”

I stare at him, relieved when he starts to walk in my direction. He stops in front of me.

“Where have you been?” he asks.

Here goes all or nothing. I take in a deep breath.

“I… I’ve told Sonja about you.” Seems like I’m the one taking stammering to the next level today.  “And we’ve decided to take a break.”

I stare at Isak. Trying to assess what this information does to him. He blinks and he swallows, but I can’t tell if it’s a good sign. He stays quiet. “What do you think about that?” I ask finally.

“Cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh…or…if it makes you sad, then it’s… I hope it’s not my fault.”

Fuck, he’s cute when he’s stammering and apologizing. Why is he apologizing though? Doesn’t he see he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Apparently not. Apparently I have to spell it out for him.

“I’m not sad!” I say.

“No?”

“No!” I step forward to close the distance between us and kiss him. Finally. After three whole days of going without. It’s just a peck-we’re in school, in the locker room. People can enter any minute. I’m sure he wouldn’t want anyone to catch us-but it’s a kiss nonetheless. When I let go he gasps. It makes my heart stutter in my chest. How can anyone be as hot and as beautiful as he is? I still can’t grasp it. Every time I see him it hits me like it did the first time. He’s a miracle, a fucking miracle.

I’m nervous. I want to ask him if he wants to become my boyfriend. But how?

We nuzzle our noses together. Isak doesn’t pull away, and, when I look at him, I notice he looks really happy.

He’s happy!

“What… do you think your parents would think if you were dating me?” I ask.

What? What the fuck, Even? Why can’t you just ask him to be your boyfriend? Who cares about what his parents may think. He doesn’t even live with his parents.

But I’ve already asked it, now all I can do is wait for him to answer.

He looks down to the ground, and all I can think of is that this was so the wrong thing to ask.

“I think that it would be okay,” he finally says.

“Yeah?”

“Or, my dad probably wouldn’t mind,” he adjusts his answer.

See? Here we go. Shit just hit the fan.

“But your mom would?” I have to ask it now.

“My mom is insane,” Isak says.

That, I didn’t expect him to say. It really throws me. “In what way?”

“She… uh… no, I mean. It’s a completely surreal situation,” Isak says. “She thinks the world is about to end. Like, that my uncle is Donald Trump.”

I widen my eyes at that. Sounds like she’s psychotic or something. Isak smiles at my reaction.

“My uncle isn’t Donald Trump,” he says.

“Phew! Okay.”

“But anyway… yeah. It’s none of her fucking concern,” Isak continues. “We haven’t spoken since I moved out.”

“So you’re not in touch with her anymore?”

“No. I mean, I decided my life would be better without any mentally ill people around me.”

.

.

.

I think my heart has stopped beating.

.

.

.

.

.

Oh my god.

.

.

.

Isak is not my guardian angel.

He’s the one with the fiery sword, keeping me out of Eden.

He’s keeping me out of Eden.

.

.

.

.

I think I’m dying.

I think I’m going to cry. I can’t cry. No no no no no.

“What do you think your parents would think about me?” Isak asks.

Now it’s my turn to stare at the ground. I don’t know what to do next. My mind is completely blank. I’m screaming internally.

The school bell rings and I look up and in his eyes. He looks so hopeful. He has absolutely no idea that this one comment, this one innocent comment has destroyed me.

_ I’ve decided my life would be better without any mentally ill people around me. _

I reach for him, my hand in his hair. I have to give him a reply now.

“I think they’d love you,” I say. And I’m speaking the truth here. I’m absolutely sure they would love him. But I don’t think they’ll ever meet him. I lean in and kiss him. It’s a sad kiss, a soft kiss, a goodbye kiss.

I let him go. I have to let him go. Go and walk away.

_ See, I’ve already waited too long. And all my hope is gone. _

I’m ditching school today. I text my mother, and then my father. One of them has to be home. I need them.

My father replies.

 

 

I hope he hurries because I don’t know what I’ll do if no one’s there when I get home. I might drink myself into a coma.

Luckily my parents know me, and they know when to be there for me, too. He’s already home when I enter the house.

He’s home and he’s there, pulling me into a hug. It’s a rare thing for my father to do, he’s not much of a hugger. That’s more my mother’s style.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I think I’m just overreacting, but-” I falter. We go to sit on the couch in the living room, and then I tell him about Isak and how madly in love I am and how he destroyed it. Destroyed me.

_ I’ve decided my life would be better without any mentally ill people around me. _

“But he meant his mother,” my father says.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe.”

I don’t believe it. And I feel like I can’t burden him. He has a tough enough life as it is. No contact with his wacky mom. Being closeted and scared as hell that people will find out. He doesn’t need me to complicate his life a little further.

Thursday is a bed day. I’m not leaving my room. My mom brings me food and tells me it’s going to be okay and maybe I should call Sonja or Ansgard or someone else to talk to. I shake my head. Just leave me alone.

I’m so lost right now.

Isak texts me in the afternoon.

**_  
_ **

 

I stare at the text message for a few minutes. I could reply with saying yes. I could not tell him I’m bipolar. I could…

I can’t do that to him though. So I break it off instead. I know it’ll hurt him, which is the last thing I want. But it’s better to stop this now, before it even started. Better this way.

I lost him.

I’m fucking dying of heartbreak.

Sonja comes over in the evening. She coaxes me out of bed. She’s good at that. There were some depressed episodes in my life in which she was able to break through. It feels actually good to see her, despite what happened between us last Sunday. She’s used to that anyway. She knows me so well. It feels normal, familiar. She brings structure to my life. Structure is very important.

“Come with me to a party tomorrow,” she says. “You need to be out and about. Emma’s hosting it. And people from Bakka will be there.”

Hmmm. That’s good. If Emma’s hosting Isak probably won’t come. I don’t think I can face him any time soon.

The party is actually almost getting close to being a little fun, in a sort of detached way. It’s nice to see some guys from my former school, anyway. There’s plenty of beer, too. That always improves a party.

I’m talking with Ron, a former classmate, when Sonja approaches me. “See! You’re having fun,” she smiles and her hand cups my neck. She presses her lips against mine and automatically I kiss her back.

“It’s great to see you’re back,” she whispers, “I love you.”

Fuck.

What does this mean?  That we’re back together again without me knowing it. I’m too lost to say anything back. To deny what she’s implying.

What I should tell her is this: I’m still in love with someone else, Sonja.

I’m lost in love.


	9. Drawing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for sexual content.
> 
> Disclaimer: ‘But watching stars without you my soul cried. Heaving heart is full of pain. Oh, oh, the aching’ is a line from the song ‘Kissing You’ from Des’ree.
> 
> Second disclaimer: ‘These violent delights have violent ends’ Is a line from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

 

_ I am human and I need to be loved. Just like everybody else does. _

\-        The Smiths, How Soon Is Now?

* * *

This is going to be so hard.

I’m back in school, I have to be. Autumn break is over and there’s no good reason not to be in school. But Monday morning it hits me in the gut as soon as he appears. Jon and Thor are busy explaining how they got laid this weekend. We’re standing in the school yard and my eyes wander off. Because, as always, I notice he’s there.

He’s there and he’s not looking good. He looks absolutely heartbroken. Pale, too. I wonder if he slept at all.

If you hate me now…

Please don’t hate me.

I’m doing this for you. You are the one who doesn’t want mentally ill people in your life, and believe me, I’m ill.

I can’t say any of this to him. All I can do is stare while he studiously ignores me. I feel so lost. All I want to do is go to him and hug him and hold him and caress his face and kiss his lips and tell him he’s so precious and so gorgeous and so wonderful and so beautiful and that he’s a fucking miracle, an angel.

An angel with a fiery sword. Keeping me out of Eden.

God. I hate my life so much right now.

It’s not very clear to me how I make it through the days. I call Ben and he says to take a few extra meds. I’ve had that before, when things were rough. An extra dose of quetiapine has the power to calm me down. Even me.

Thankful for medication.

It doesn’t help me much though when I see Isak again on Wednesday. He’s standing at the counter in the cafeteria. Before I can stop myself I’m walking in his direction. As if there’s no other route to go to my class. Yes, there is. There are plenty. But somehow this is the only direction my feet want to go. To Isak. As I close in on him I notice how tired he looks, he seems almost comatose. As if he’s not sleeping at all. Did I do that? Do I have that effect on him?     


“Hey,” I say as he turns around and almost bumps into me. In his hand a cardboard plate with a cheese toastie on it.

“Hey,” he replies. He’s startled. He meets my eyes for a second before they flit away. To the ground. Because the ground is so fucking interesting.

“No cardamom?” I ask.

“Eh...” he chuckles mirthlessly as he looks down on the plate in his hand. “No… Cardamomme!”

I laugh softly at his reply. He smiles a little. I feel my heartbeat speed up at that smile. My whole body yearning to be closer to him. To touch him. But I can’t. I won’t.

“No…” he mumbles.

I’m digging in my brain for something to say. I’ve got nothing. “But...uh.”

Before I get the chance to finish that sentence (not that it was going anywhere) Isak interrupts. “I’ve got to go.”

He walks past me, out of the cafeteria.

Well then. That went extremely well. Fuck.

At home I feel restless. I’m affected by how tired he looked. Feeling responsible for that, and I really want to do something to make him feel better. Anything.

I’d do anything for him. If only I could cure myself from this mental illness of mine.

While sitting at my desk I stare at the notebook in front of me. I open it and tear out a piece of paper and start to draw. Isak, alone, with a cheese toastie.

‘Cheese toastie without cardamom’

In the second frame I draw us together. Both of us with a cheese toastie.

‘At the same time in a different place in the universe’

‘Cheese toastie with cardamom’

Do you think he’ll like it? At least it’s something. I’m not ready to lose him yet. I want to establish some sort of contact between us. To communicate with him. To tell him I love him.

Because I really do.

What about love?

Love is a heartless bitch, tearing down your soul. Love is loss. Love is pain. Yet love is the only thing in this world that is really important. It’s the only thing that makes our hearts beat. It’s so fucking unfair.

It takes me all of Thursday to gather my strength and give the drawing to Isak. I chicken out. Epic fail. But on Friday I sneak into the locker room when he has P.E. and put it in his jacket pocket.

Isak replies on Saturday with a text.

I stare at my phone, feeling so conflicted. What to say? What to answer? Finally I decide no answer is the best answer. No answer is an answer too, essentially. Does that make any sense?

It’s like I’m sending him this message, saying I love you I love you. And then when he replies I go back to ignoring him, saying I can’t be with you I can’t be with you. I hate myself because of it.

When I come to school on Monday I find out there’s a rumour going around. A rumour about me and Isak. What the fuck? I don’t care about rumours, but I’m pretty sure Isak does. Instantly I confront Ansgard. He doesn’t know what happened between us, but he knows I like Isak. He gets a little pissed at my accusation.

“What do you see me for, huh? As if I’m some asshole who would tell on his friends like that. Seriously, Even?” he shakes his head at me. “You didn’t even tell me you hooked up with him.”

“So how come it’s widely known?” I ask.

“He flipped out at the party at Emma’s the week before Autumn break,” Ansgard says.

“What? He was there?” Shit shit shit… How did I not see him there? How…? What? How could this happen?

“Yeah, I saw him,” Ansgard explains. “He was there for a really short time, and he flipped out and shoved one of his friends. They say it’s because of you.”

“Who says that?” I really need to know.

“Emma said it.”

Sonja. That fucking bitch told Emma about Isak and me. And now the entire school knows. I’m so mad at her. Who does she think she is? I text her instantly.

I haven’t seen Sonja much since that party two weeks ago. She probably thinks giving me space will eventually bring me back to her. But I am so done.

So done.

When she comes over I confront her with what Ansgard told me in school.

“Of course I told Emma,” she replies. “She’s my friend and she deserves to know that Isak was screwing her over.”

“What the fuck, Sonja,” I say. “They weren’t even together. I can’t believe you did this. The entire school knows about us.”

“So what? Since when do you care?” She looks puzzled. She knows me so well. “You never care about this stuff.”

“And I still don’t. But there are more people involved in this than just me,” I spit at her.

“Oh come on. You mean Isak? That guy needs to grow up.”

“You shut your mouth,” I yell, really pissed now. “This isn’t for you to decide. You outed him, Sonja! How could you do that to him? He wasn’t ready. Seriously, who do you think you are?”

“Even, calm down,” she puts a hand on my arm but I shake it off.

“Don’t touch me.”

She backs away a little, but she stares me down. A determined look in her eyes. “I think it’s best you get over him. He’s making you upset. I’ve never seen you like this.”

I look away, my mind racing. I’m trembling and having trouble forming coherent sentences now. The perfect song lyrics enter my mind, as they often do. I decide to go for it and blurt them out.

_ “You shut your mouth, how can you say I go about things the wrong way!”  _

“Oh for god’s sake, stop quoting The Smith’s on me.” She rolls her eyes at me, “I get it,  _ you’re human and you need to be loved _ . Blah, blah, blah.”

“I will decide for myself whenever I’ll quote The Smiths or not.  _ You _ are not in control.  _ You _ are not the boss of me.  _ You _ can’t tell me what to do. I cannot and I will not get over him.”

“Suit yourself, Even. You know what? I’m sick of watching you throwing your life to hell like that.” Now she finally stalks off. The door closes with a loud bang.

I think we’re done. I think we’re really done.

With a deep sigh I sit down at my desk and check my phone. No new messages. My heart is screaming for Isak. Anything from him. I need him. I know I’m being extremely unreasonable. I’m the one staying away from him. Not the other way around. But I need him so much right now.

Another piece of paper almost automatically fills itself with a new drawing. My phone is lying next to it on the desk, Isak’s latest text on it. I meticulously copy it onto the paper.

‘Hi Even. Thanks a lot for the drawing. It’s very nice. When did you put it in my jacket though?’

And then I draw a second phone in the second frame.

‘At the same time in a completely different place in the universe.’

In another universe I wouldn’t be bipolar and I would’ve answered him.

‘Hi Even. Thanks a lot for the drawing. It’s very nice. When did you put it in my jacket though?’

‘Glad you liked it. Put it there when you had P.E. Miss you.’

I miss him so much. It hurts. Fuck. It hurts.

Wednesday at the end of the day I walk through the halls of the school, heading to Isak’s locker. I know the code, I watched him enter it.  I type it in and pull. It has trouble opening up.

Maybe his locker is taking after him. Like dogs take after their owners. Get yourself out of the closet! Something like that.

When I finally get it open I examine the hinges. There’s some paper or lint or something in one of the hinges, causing the trouble. Carefully, I pick it out and close the locker. Then I enter Isak’s code and without a problem it opens. Great. I fixed it.

Can’t fix anything else that’s wrong in Isak’s life, but at least I could fix this. Next I put in the drawing, close the locker and that’s it. Now all I can do is wait.

Will he reply? Is he still there? Is there still hope? Even though I know there isn’t.

I miss him.

I miss him so much.

He doesn’t reply. No text, no call, no nothing. I don’t see him on Thursday. I don’t see him on Friday. I’m going crazy with want right about now. Going crazy. I need him. Can’t do this anymore. Can’t stay away from him. It’s impossible.

No one can ask me to accomplish the impossible.

Maybe we could try? Maybe I could try to not be mentally ill and be part of his life.

Anything.

I’m willing to do anything right about now.

The walls are closing in on me. It’s Friday, just after six. There are no plans for tonight, no plans for this weekend, but I can’t stay inside my house for a minute longer. I need to get out.

Outside I grab my bike and start cycling. Wherever my feet will take me.

No, I’m not surprised when they take me to the neighbourhood where Isak lives. I bike past his house. The light is on in the kitchen. I hesitate.

_ I’ve decided my life would be better without any mentally ill people around me. _

I can’t do this to him, so I continue my bike ride. After about two minutes I’m sick of it. The bike falls with a clang on the ground and I go sit on a bench. Looking up into the night sky I see the stars.

_ But watching stars without you, my soul cried. Heaving heart is full of pain. Oh, oh, the aching… _

Time for a cigarette. I’m about to light it when my phone buzzes.

Isak.

 

My girlfriend? What girlfriend. I text him back. Not able to ignore it anymore, have to see him. Talk to him. Maybe tell him I’m bipolar and see how he reacts? He might be fine with it.

 

 

Here I am, staring at my phone like an obsessed lunatic, tense, while waiting for his answer. I see he’s writing something, but nothing comes up. What is he writing? What could possibly take so long? 

Finally his answer comes.

****

At home. He’s at home. I’m not wasting another second without him. After making this decision I jump up and grab my bike, feeling so much lighter somehow.

Lighter, but also extremely nervous. Less than two minutes later I’m back at his house and ring the downstairs doorbell. My breathing is rapidly accelerating. My heart slamming in my chest as the buzzer sounds. I’m telling myself sternly not to run the stairs, but to walk slowly. Otherwise I’ll be completely out of breath when I arrive. I’m having enough trouble breathing as it is.

Before his front door I stop. Count to ten. Lift my hand. Knock on the door. Wait.

Wait.

It seems to last an eternity. But then the door opens and he’s there. He’s wearing a red cap and a plaid shirt open over a white t-shirt. His green eyes are gazing over me. It’s so intense. So overwhelming to see him again. And he looks so hot.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I reply. There’s nothing more I can think of to say. This is killing me, because I feel totally helpless. Left to his mercy.

What will he do? He keeps looking at me. There’s yearning in his eyes. It’s too much for me to look at, so I look away. But if I look away I can’t see him, so I look back. And then he moves forward. Before I have time to react he presses his lips against mine, his hand cupping my neck as he pulls me against him.

His hand is in my hair and he pulls me over the threshold into his apartment. All the while his lips move against mine with a determination which he passes on to me via his mouth, straight into mine, coursing through my body like fire. I kiss him back, our tongues meet, our bodies meet. And everything else is forgotten.

Forgotten.

All that exists now is Isak. And my longing for him and his longing for me. Without letting go, without stopping the kiss we walk through the hallway to his room. He’s taking me with him, taking the lead. He’s done with being passive. And god it turns me on. I want him.

I want to make him come.

I’m going to make him come. I set myself a new goal. To make him come.

I like this goal.

My hands are on him, touching his face, his throat, his hair. I want him closer.

We’re in his room now, he’s taking me all the way in until his back is pressed against the wall and my body pressed against his. He’s everywhere, I feel him, I smell him, I taste him. All my senses seem highly sensitive now. Sensitive to Isak and his touch and what he’s doing to me. What’s he doing to me? I can’t think straight anymore.

We break away from each other for a second, and I reach out and pull his shirt off. My hoodie goes off next. Gone, gone. Down on the floor. He throws away his cap and takes off the white t-shirt before our mouths clash against each other once more. My hands slide over his bare chest, his shoulders, his arms. I press him against the wall as his hands slide around my back under my shirt and he takes it off in one smooth motion.

He makes me ascend. He makes me high, so high. His hands are on my back, his fingers brushing and caressing. Even now, he’s gentle. And so soft. I need softness in my life.

I need to make him come.

My mouth breaks away from his and I trail down kisses over his jaw down to his throat, his collarbone and his chest. His hand is in my hair, his fingers curling against my scalp. I’m going down.

Down on my knees for him. I’ll worship him. My hands are on the waistband of his jeans, and I open his fly and pull them down. He’s wearing black briefs underneath. Off, off. I need them off and gone. But before I do so I look up at him. Need to know if he’s okay with this.

His hands are still in my hair as he looks down on me. Pupils dilated, the green almost gone. He doesn’t need to say anything. I can read him like a book.

_ Go on. _

And I go. I take them off and then I wait for a second, to take him in. All of him. I worship him. I’ll fucking kiss the ground on which he stands. He’s so beautiful. His dick hard and large and I long to take him in my mouth. But not yet…

Have to savour it for a little while longer. Both my hands are on his bare hips as I press my lips against his abdomen. I feel his cock against my throat as I trail with my tongue over his stomach further down to his pubic hair and his groin. I kiss his inner thigh and then flick my tongue out to lick his balls. My hands stroking his hips. He’s sighing softly.

Then, finally, I press my lips against the base of his length. I can’t wait any longer. Need to feel him. Need to make him come. His sigh turns into a moan as my lips travel over him. I know I have good lips for stuff like this. All the way over his erection I go, until I reach his tip. 

Isak’s moaning softly. “Even…”

Hearing him call my name is so damn hot. My tongue slides out and twirls around him like he’s a lollipop. He tastes incredible. An innate Isakness. Totally different than his mouth, but it’s all him.

No one else has ever made me feel like this before.

I lose my patience. I lose my grip on reality as I take him in my mouth. Take all of him, as much as I can. My hands dig into the skin of his ass, as I pull him to me. He’s moaning. The most miraculous sound in the world. And to know that I make him feel like this. I am doing this now, to him. Me. It’s me.

My tongue is still twirling as I start to suck. One of my hands leaves his ass and grabs the base of his dick, my fingers wrapping around him, moving in sync with my mouth. I’m sucking him with all that I’m worth. Going to make him come, make him come hard. In my mouth. I fucking don’t care.

And he does.

He comes.

And it’s heaven.

I don’t want to be a cliché, but I fucking am. It’s heaven.

Isak stretches out his hand and lifts me up, like a lord raises up a warrior after he’s been knighted. Our mouths lock and I wonder how it is for him to taste himself on my lips. He pulls me with him to the bed and we half fall, half lie down, me on top of him. He reaches between us, opens my pants and shoves them off. We break off the kiss as I get up to get rid of the fabric around my legs. As soon as both my jeans and boxers are gone he draws me against him. His hands are on my ass, fingers digging in as he pulls me down. The friction it creates makes me gasp against his mouth and I thrust my hips into it.

I don’t know how he knows how to do this, but suddenly he shifts his legs, encasing my dick in between them. His hands move from my ass to my hips as he encourages me to move, and I do. There’s a coiling in my belly growing tighter and tighter while I thrust between his legs. The tip of my dick touching his balls and I’m so turned on. So horny. So fucking hot for him. He squeezes his legs against me, it makes me crazy. High. Higher than any joint could ever make me.

God. I love him.

My eyes travel over his beautiful angelic face and I stare into his green eyes. They’re blazing like emeralds. They’re hot and wet like the jungle. Alive with a burning passion. I lose myself in them.

I’m so in love with him. I want to say it too, but it seems as if I’ve lost the ability to speak. He kisses me and I kiss him back, feeling it in my entire body. My toes are tingling. The tight knot in my belly grows tighter and is soon going to explode. I move on top of him, he moves with me. So in sync we are. I can hardly comprehend it, hardly believe how well we fit. How we are a perfect fit.

I’m going to fucking marry him.

That’s the last thought that enters my brain when the knot in my stomach explodes violently and I come. Covering both Isak and his mattress in my cum. I can’t fucking care about that now. Isak lifts his hands to my back and pulls me close as I bury my face in his neck.

This was so hot. So violently hot.

These violent delights have violent ends.

 

 


	10. Hashtag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers the first half of episode 8. Trigger warning: there is explicit sexual content in this chapter.

The first thing I realize when I open my eyes is that I’ve slept through the night. Without the help of medication, I slept throughout the entire night. Isak, my savior, is lying next to me, on his stomach, his face turned towards me, slack with sleep. I stare at him in wonder, unable to believe that I’m here with him in his room and that I slept.

And that we had sex.

Thinking back to last night my cock wakes up, too.

He’s so hot. So freaking beautiful.

As my mind plays over everything that happened yesterday, my eyes travel over his face. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes of staring and I still can’t get enough. But I have to pee, and I notice my stomach is growling with hunger. I didn’t eat anything last night.

Reluctantly I get up, put on some sweatpants, and I pick up the white t-shirt Isak was wearing yesterday. I go to the bathroom and decide to have a quick shower. God knows I need it. From there my journey takes me to the kitchen. Without any reservation I open the fridge and examine its contents. There are eggs, cheese, sour cream. Plenty to make my famous scrambled eggs. Maybe I’ll fry some, too, or make an omelet. I want to make Isak’s favourite, but I don’t know what that is. Maybe I can poach some eggs as well. My mom taught me how to poach an egg. It’s quite difficult, but practice makes perfect. One afternoon we poached three dozen eggs together. It was a bit of a waste, because we had to throw most of them out, but by the end I’d mastered it.

In the corner next to the stove stands an old radio. I turn it on, in the mood for some music. While I’m rummaging between the pots and pans in search of a proper skillet to fry eggs I hear footsteps approaching.

“Eh… hi?” When I look up I see Noora standing in the doorway. 

“Hi!”

Behind her Eskild appears, wearing a dark blue silk kimono with Japanese characters on it. “Hey, Even! I see you’re back.”

“Yeah,” I smile at them as they enter the kitchen. “I’m making breakfast. Do you want some?”

“Sure!” Noora smiles, and Eskild nods in agreement.

“Do you want eggs? Fried, or poached?”

“You know how to poach eggs?” Noora asks, amazed.

“Yeah, my mom taught me.” While I say this I hear the regret in my voice. I wish she’d be home more often. Cook some more, and teach me some more too. I’d love that. 

“Do you want one?”

“Okay!” she laughs, which makes her face light up.

“I’ll need a bit of vinegar.” 

“I don’t think we have any,” Eskild says.

I shake my head in mock dismay as I put water in the water cooker and turn it on. “No vinegar! How’s that even possible?”

Noora takes out some bread from one of the kitchen cabinets. “I think you’re mistaking our kitchen for one in a three-star restaurant.”

“Can you make poached eggs without it?” Eskild asks.

“Sure. I’ll try. But don’t be mad at me if it doesn’t work.”

I place a pan on the stove, put in boiling water from the water cooker and stir it rapidly. The whirlpool it creates always captivates me—that water can do this and look alive somehow. The daylight coming in from the window reflects in the water and makes it sparkle. It’s fascinating. When the whirlpool is deep enough I carefully break an egg in the middle of it. Another fascinating picture unfolds. You see the whites slowly congealing, swirling through the water and surrounding the yoke until the yellow is hidden beneath it. Like a treasure waiting to be revealed. Even without the vinegar it poaches perfectly. “Hold up a plate?”

Noora comes up behind me with a slice of bread on a plate, and I place the egg on top. “Add some mayonnaise, it will taste incredible,” I suggest. Not as good as proper buttery hollandaise sauce, but still.

Then I poach a second one for Eskild. While they’re eating I turn on the stove and put butter in a frying pan. It sputters and instantly the smell of melted butter fills the kitchen. It’s one of my favourite scents. It’s kind of horny. Especially combined with the sputtering sound. Melted butterrr. So good. I break several eggs in the pan. Their yokes break and mix with the whites, it looks like yellow and white paint smeared over a canvas. With a spatula I scramble them up, and then add cheese and sour cream to the pan before lowering the gas.

“Do you have cayenne pepper, though? I need it,” I ask, looking at Eskild and Noora over my shoulder. It seems like they’re devouring their food, which is kind of satisfying for me. Can I say I love it when people dig my food? “Is it any good, by the way?”

“It’s really good,” Eskild says with a mouth full of egg.

Noora agrees. “It’s so nice that you’re doing this.”

“It’s my thank you for letting me borrow your shower.”    


“You used our shower?” Eskild asks, he doesn’t sound mad or anything, just surprised. I take a spatula to jostle through the pan. I taste it—it needs a little extra sour cream. 

You know, the key to good cooking is tasting.

“Yeah, I used your shower.” I smile, thinking about how necessary that shower was.

“The hair products aren’t mine,” he hastens to say. “Or, like, not all of them.”

“No,” Noora interrupts him. “But you are welcome to use them.”

“Yeah, feel free to use the shampoo,” Eskild says.

My extra sense for knowing Isak is here kicks in and I look up. He’s just walking into the kitchen, his mouth open in surprise. I like the t-shirt he’s wearing. White, with a picture of the Simpsons on it.

“Hi!” I’m so happy to see him. “Good morning!”

I forget about Eskild and Noora standing right there and walk to him, cupping his face in my hands as I press my lips to his. “I made us some breakfast.”

Some egg comes off my hand and on his cheek. “Oh,” I say as I wipe my finger over his cheek, to clean it. “I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve made lots of food!”

I turn back to the stove to stir in the pan once more and look up at Isak again. He looks utterly surprised, I’m not completely sure why.

Noora comes up with an excuse to go, convincing Eskild to go with her. Apparently they’re doing a bathing yoga course. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t exist, but I don’t mind them leaving. Or maybe it does exists. I know nothing about yoga.

After they leave, Isak crosses the kitchen, still in some sort of daze.

“Hey, I didn’t know what you liked, so I just made everything,” I quote Pretty Woman. “What movie?”

“Movie?” Isak’s clearly not getting the reference. 

I put some scrambled egg on the spatula. “Taste this.”

I hold out the spatula, blow on it to make sure it isn’t too hot and bring it to Isak’s mouth. He takes a bite and swallows. “Is it any good?” I ask.

“Hmm,” he says.

“The secret is one tablespoon of sour cream,” I tell him.

When he doesn’t react, my attention goes back to the frying pan. Isak leans against the counter behind me.

“When I woke up I thought you left,” he says suddenly. The sound of insecurity in his voice makes me look up. So that’s why he was so startled. He was startled to see me.

“Hey, you,” I say as I close the distance between us and place a hand on his side, needing badly to reassure him. “I was just in here, cooking. And chatting with your friends.”

He’s quiet again and I turn back to the eggs. After a minute or so he says, “Does Sonja know where you are?”

Sonja? Why does he bring up Sonja?

“You don’t have to give a shit about Sonja,” I say, shrugging. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Yeah, well. The last time you said it was over, you were like, hooking up with her two days later.”

How did I hook up with Sonja two days later? Oh wait. At Emma’s party. I had already forgotten that Isak was there. And he’d seen me with Sonja, apparently.

“It’s not easy for me to not give a shit about her, Even,” Isak says.

That hits a nerve. I know I’ve been an asshole. I guess it’s time to come clean now. Tell him about Sonja and about everything else. Should I? Can I? I hear his voice in my head again.

_ I’ve decided my life would be better without any mentally ill people around me. _

It’s like a broken record. I can’t tell him.

Tell him about Sonja, though.

He’s standing behind me, my focus is on the eggs in front of me.

“No, but you’ve got to understand that the thing with Sonja is that she’s in control,” I begin, trying to assemble my thoughts. My hand moves the spatula around in the pan. “Sometimes I feel as though she knows me better than I do myself, because everything she says is true. And… that’s what I’m so freaking tired of. I feel as though she can’t feel what I feel, or think, for that matter.”

It stays quiet after I’m done speaking. I look over my shoulder to Isak. “Do you agree?”

He nods. “Only you can feel what you feel.”

Is it the way he says it or the way his eyes are fixed on me, deadly serious now? I don’t know what it is exactly, but it makes my heart jump in my chest, hearing him say these words. He understands me, he gets me. The pan and the eggs are forgotten as I cross the kitchen and stand right in front of him. He licks with his tongue over his bottom lip, it makes me want to kiss him badly.

Our foreheads and noses press together. “And I haven’t felt anything quite like this,” I tell him while I stare in his eyes. “Ever.”

His voice is barely a whisper when he answers, “Neither have I.”

_ Neither have I. _

Everything.

He is everything. And this…

Saying this. Reassuring me. This, this thing between us, it’s not something I made up in my head. It’s important for him too. Maybe… maybe it means he loves me? Loves me like I love him? Can that be possible?

I tilt my head and press my lips against his and we kiss. His lips soft and warm against mine, it’s over too soon. It’s always over too soon.

Behind me the radio starts a new song. I recognize it instantly. Gabrielle. Five fine ladies. This is such an addictive song. I’m hooked on it. It’s my guilty pleasure.

I smile at Isak. “This song though!”

“What?”

“Gabrielle!” I go to the radio to turn up the volume.

“Are you kidding?” Isak asks.

“No,” I shake my head.

Isak swears. “Is this a hashtag? What the fuck?”

“What is it?” I don’t quite understand what the problem is.

“When you’ve found the man of your life and it turns out he likes Gabrielle…” He frowns adorably at the last word. But all I hear is  _ the man of your life. _

“Am I the man of your life?” I ask, pointing to myself. Isak shakes his head and I look over my shoulder as if to see if there’s someone else in the room. “Or…” I take a step back. “Is it me you’re talking about?”

I’m internally screaming. Jump for joy. Jump for joy!

Isak looks so pretty while he shakes his head.

“Am I the man of your life?” I ask again.

“That’s the way the hashtag goes, you know that!” Isak exclaims.

“No! Excuse me!” I walk to him. “You said I’m the man of your life!”

I kiss him and press our foreheads together. “Say it again.”

“Hmm?"

“Say it again.”

“You’re the man of my life,” Isak whispers.

#JUMPFORJOY!

My mouth crashes against his, his hand goes up around my neck, fingers twirling in my hair. His tongue slides in my mouth. I stroke his cheek as the chorus of the song starts and I have to move. This music makes me move, I can’t help it. Move my shoulders. Move my hips.

Five fine ladies.

Isak laughs and shakes his head again. “It’s shit!” But he moves, too. His shoulders a little and his head. Gabrielle does that to you. There’s no stopping it.

I point to him and laugh, “See, you’re dancing, you are!”

“No!” But he’s smiling a wide smile. One that lights up his entire face. He makes me fired up!

“Come on then!” I move towards him and he buries his face in his hands. Yeah, he makes his point clear. He doesn’t like Gabrielle. But I do!

So I move and I dance and I sing along.

#JUMPFORJOY!

“ _ You make me fired up! There’s nothing that can cool me down. You make everything go up in smoke. There’s no one else I’d rather do this with _ ,” I sing. It’s so true, too. No truer words have been spoken. Have been sung.

Isak stares at me while I sing. Have to kiss him again. He draws me to him and brings my mouth down on his. He tastes so incredibly good. A little scrambled egg and a lot of Isakness. I will never get enough of him.

So in love.

So in love. I have fallen. But he caught me and he’s holding me now. In his arms. It’s such a safe place to be.

After breakfast Isak asks me what I want to do today. It reminds me that I have to let my parents know I’m staying here. It’s a good thing I’m thinking about it now, relatively on time. They know Sonja and I are through, but I hadn’t said anything about going here last night. So I take out my phone and text them.

 

Good thing they’re easy going. As long as…

 

 

Fuck.

 

Lie.

**_  
_ **

 

I put the phone away and regard Isak over the breakfast table as he repeats his question.

“Maybe go out, or make out, or both?” I suggest. “I mean, we need to go to the supermarket. I depleted your stock, have to replenish it. And maybe we could buy some stuff for dinner. Oh, we could cook! Do you know how to cook?”

Isak smiles. “I know how to put a pizza in the oven. But we could cook. What do you want to make?”

“I don’t know, maybe some pasta?”

“Okay, sure. To the supermarket we go. Or do you want to make out, first?” he tilts his head a bit and looks at me, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Maybe make out first,” I reply, smirking. He’s too cute to resist. I get up from my chair and pull Isak up and in my arms. His lips are against mine, parting them and sliding his tongue in. He presses me against the counter. My hands slip under his shirt, over his back. His skin is so smooth and soft. 

“Maybe we should move this to my bedroom,” Isak whispers against my lips.

“Why? Eskild and Noora have left for bathing yoga.”

“Yeah, but there’s Linn. My third roommate.” He breaks off the kiss, wraps a hand around my wrist and pulls me with him to his bedroom.

Once inside we stumble to the bed, hurriedly taking our clothes off on the way there. Kissing, touching, caressing. And I love it so much, all of it, all of him. He’s pulling me on top of him. The touch of his naked skin against mine fires me up. I thrust and feel his erection against my own, which makes me extremely hot. Propped up on my elbow I slide my hand between us and wrap my fingers around both our dicks, which doesn’t quite fit, but god it’s hot. I squeeze him against me, which makes him moan. It makes me moan too. I want to come, I want him to come, us both to come. Together.

Isak’s hand is there now too. He’s pulling me away from my dick and wraps his fingers around me. And then he starts to move, so fast that stars appear in my vision. I have to hurry  to keep up with him. My hand around his dick, his around mine. We go together. We come together. I love it. This Saturday is a day of love.

It’s about three in the afternoon when we finally emerge from Isak’s bedroom, ready to go out. We stop on our way to the supermarket at kaffebrenneriet for some coffee. We make some stupid selfies, making faces, joking around. Having a good time, basically.

In the supermarket I suggest buying the ingredients for this pasta dish I like. “It’s from Jamie Oliver. It’s so good, I’m telling you.”

“Okay,” Isak is fine with whatever I suggest. I load up on the ingredients: tomatoes, black olives, anchovy, salmon, onion, parsley, red peppers. And of course spaghetti. And parmesan. You can’t eat Italian without parmesan.

Back in Isak’s apartment we cook together. I teach him the recipe. It’s a lot of chopping and throwing it together in a pan. Nothing too hard. It needs cinnamon, though, that’s what makes it delicious.

“I forgot to buy cinnamon,” I tell Isak.

Isak laughs. “Cinnamon? Are you messing with me now?”

“No, I’m serious. It tastes really good!”

“Okay!” He rummages through the cabinets and hands me a small jar. “Here you go!”

“Phew,” I smirk. “The whole dish would’ve been ruined without this.”

After cooking together we eat together. After eating together we make out some more. This Saturday and this Sunday are days of being in love. Being giddy, drunk with love, really. And I sleep, so I don’t need medication.

What about being in love?

It’s a little like taking drugs. It has to do with pheromones I think. I have no clue. I can’t answer this question now, I’m drunk.

But I sleep. So there’s no problem.

Monday morning the alarm wakes me up. See? No problem. If the alarm wakes me it’s all good. And I wake up with Isak lying right there next to me. My guardian angel. What more could I possibly want? What more do I need?

He yawns, sits up and stretches his arms. “Have to go to school. Have to shower,” he says and he moves to get out of the bed. Before he can do so I catch his arm and pull him to me.

“Have to stay in bed with me.” I smile as I kiss him softly.

“No,” he says against my lips. “Have biology today. And I can’t miss it, because I have a test this Friday.”

“That sucks,” I say. I want to keep him here with me, but he disentangles himself from me and leaps off the bed.

He rummages through his clothes. “Have to take a shower,” he repeats. He sounds so happy, despite the fact that school interferes. His happiness is my life.

“I don’t want you to,” I say.

He looks up and smiles a little mischievously. “Join me, then?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “In biology class or in the shower?”

“The shower,” he replies and he winks at me before he turns and walks out of the room.

Yeah. You don’t have to ask me twice. I don’t think I’ve ever left my bed faster than I do now.

When I enter the bathroom, Isak’s already in the shower stall. “Lock the door, will you?” he asks, his head appearing from behind the shower curtain.

I lock the door, drop my boxers and join him under the hot spray. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close, his lips on my neck. My eyes close as I enjoy the feel of him and the hot water all around me.

Isak pulls away from me and I look up to see what he’s doing. He grabs a bottle of soap and spills a generous amount of it in his hand. “Time to soap you up,” he says, smiling.

“What? Am I that dirty?” I ask.

“Yes!” He laughs as he divides the soap in his hands and places them on my shoulders. They feel all slippery and foamy against my skin. He starts to move them over my chest and down my abdomen, my waist and then to the back, over my shoulder blades, my spine, the small of my back. He doesn’t miss a spot. His body’s pressed against mine now while his hands travel down over my ass. One of them sliding between my butt cheeks. Going further down.

It feels good.

It feels damn good to have his hands on me like this.

I look in his eyes, he looks back, and I realize I start to recognize the different ways Isak looks at me. This look is one of pure lust. I bite my lip as I feel my own erection grow. Quite impressive in such hot water. His one hand is still on my ass, fingers sliding further down. He’s about to touch my balls. At least that’s what I think. But then he stops moving. His finger, sticky and slippery with soap and water caresses my anus. And then…

Holy fuck…

He goes in.

I close my eyes and moan. It feels so fucking good. Fuck… fuck fuck fuck I love this. He moves his finger a little further inside. Aaafrgfajdnfkjnfsfjskndaaslmdlma

I’m done.

That’s it. My mind has exploded. I’m sorry but I can’t say anything anymore, because I’m no longer capable of forming coherent thoughts or words.

All my senses are sharpened. I smell the soap, I think it’s bergamot or something. I taste the water in my mouth. I see stars behind my closed eyelids. I hear the water falling on the tiled bathroom floor. And I feel… Isak everywhere. His finger inside of me. His lips on my throat, my collarbone. He travels down over my chest, my abdomen. He kisses my belly button and further down.

Down.

I fucking worship him for making me feel like this.

He wraps his free hand around the base of my dick and then his mouth is on me. Hot, so hot and wet and hot and damn… Damn.

I can’t believe he’s doing this. He makes me lose my grip on reality. He makes me float on waves of pure bliss. My knees buckle. I can hardly stay upright. I’m coming.

Coming hard.

Coming home.

To the man of my life.

  


 

After school I go home for a change of clothes and a short chat with my father.

“How was your weekend?” he asks while handing me a mug of coffee.

“Pretty good,” I say, smiling.

“You look happy,” my father states.

“I think happy is an understatement,” I say, “I’m hashtag jumping for joy.”

“Is that… uhm,” he takes a gulp from his coffee before he finishes the sentence. “It isn’t too much, though?”

“No, no,” I hasten to set his mind at ease. This is what I hate, you know. When my parents are constantly worried that every burst of happiness implies a manic episode. “I’m fine.”

He nods. “Okay.”

I check my phone, it’s almost 15:00. “Anyway, have to go. I agreed to meet Isak in the coffee shop.”

“Kaffebrenneriet?” my dad asks.

“Yup,” I say as I knock back my coffee and walk out of the door. To the man of my life.

* * *

 

My mother asked me to have dinner at home on Wednesday, so obediently I go. I should probably sleep at home, too. I haven’t slept in my own bed since Friday. And Isak needs to study.

Somehow it makes me uneasy and restless. Being at home. My thoughts are crowding up on me. Isak’s presence is so calming. Now that he’s at his home and I’m not, I feel pumped up and fidgety. Trying to do some homework, because I haven’t done any this week, but I can’t concentrate. I listen to Cypress Hill. ‘Hits From the Bong.’

My hand reaches for my phone to check the time. Almost a quarter to seven. No messages. I need myself some Isak. My fingers rapidly move over my phone, sending him the lyrics of the song I’m listening to. Music like this makes me want to smoke pot.

I can’t believe Isak saw that video that Mikael made last year. How did he find that? He actually went looking for me, online. That has to be it. I love it. I love him. Didn’t love to see Mikael though, it kind of hurts.

I don’t want to shower by myself.

I don’t want to sleep in my own bed anymore. It sucks. I can’t sleep.

Fuck it, I’m going.

* * *

Sonja tried to call me a few times this week. She left me messages too, about Isak.

Of course she doesn’t.

I walk into Isak and his boy squad on Thursday just before 15:00, in school, on my way to English. Isak introduces me to them. Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus. Those are the names. Magnus is the blonde one, Mahdi the bald one and Jonas the one with the curly brown hair. They all seem really cool, joking around about Friday night. I find out they were all at Isak’s when I rang that doorbell. And he threw them out!

He threw them out for me!

When they leave for pizza (Isak can’t join because he has to go to class because he has a test on Friday I told you that right?) Magnus gives me a hug. What a sweetheart!

Then it’s just Isak and me in the hallway. His phone buzzes and he answers. “Hello, this is Isak.”

I hear someone answering him on the other end of the line and he looks up at me, a crease appearing on his forehead. He takes the phone from his ear and says, “It’s Sonja!”

What the fuck.

I don’t hesitate for a second. Grab the phone from his hand. “Don’t fucking call Isak.”

I press the ‘end call’ button and hand the phone back to Isak.

“What?” He’s abashed. “Why did you do that?”

“Don’t talk to her.”

“Why? What does she want?”

“She wants to control you.” That bitch. I can’t believe she called him.

“Control me? How would she control me?” Isak raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“Because she doesn’t like people who live freely and are real.” Like you, Isak! Hashtag free and real!

He still looks pretty startled. So cute! I reach for him, cup his face with both my hands and kiss him hard on the lips.

“You’re so  _ fucking _ hot, Isak!” I say as I turn away from him and walk up the stairs to my class. Looking over my shoulder at him, I flash him a smile.

He’s so hot hot hot hot hot.

After school. Go home.

Because, yeah, I slept again at Isak’s last night. And my mom wasn’t pleased. And Isak has his test. So tonight, tonight I really have to stay home. And Isak needs to study for his test. Spotify plays John Legend today. My father has his phone hooked on the Bluetooth Box. That’s when John Legend happens.

 

Gotta surprise Isak.

With gifts from Tiffany.

Or maybe something else?

#Book a room at the Radisson. The penthouse suite all the way at the top.

 

I can’t sleep in my own bed.

I’m browsing the internet. My thoughts go a thousand miles an hour.

Book a room at the Radisson.

I grab my father's credit card and do it. Book a room for Even Bech Nӕsheim.

Are you over eighteen? The website wants to know.

Yes.

Yes I am.

Tomorrow after Isak has passed his test we’re going to the Radisson.

The penthouse suite. The fucking penthouse suite.

I’ve booked the Radisson. The fucki--

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Stoked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of episode eight. This chapter contains smut and a description of a manic episode.

 

—ng penthouse suite.

I don’t sleep.

I can’t sleep in my own bed anymore.

Sleep is the cousin of death, anyways.

Friday is taking forever… Isak has his test. He’ll pass it, of course. He’s so smart.

Time’s not running fast enough. I’m so happy when the phone buzzes and Isak tells me he’s

 

**  
**

Going to the Radisson.

Hurriedly I walk to the coffee shop. There… I see him sitting behind the window, staring at his phone. I go to stand right in front of him and tap the window. He looks up. He smiles. Oh, his smile. I’d kill for his smile. Do anything for it.

My angel!

I breathe on the window and draw a little heart with an ‘i’ in it. So cute. Something cute for Isak, who is by far the most cutest person in the world. And the most beautiful. I’m so hot for him.

He smiles again and then he gets up and comes to meet me outside. “Hi!” I greet him as soon as he’s out of the door. He says hi back and I lean in to kiss him, but he backs away. Oh right. No affection outside on the street, please. Someone might see.

I don’t mind. If he doesn’t want it I won’t ever try to kiss him again in public.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” Isak asks.

I shake my head as I look at him, feeling giddy with excitement. “No, I don’t want to do that.”

“Okay, what do you want to do, then?” He keeps smiling. Oh, his smile.

“I want to go check into a fucking suite!” I tell him.

“A suite?” He scrunches up his face. It’s so sweet. I nod and start walking backwards in the direction of the Radisson.

“Why do you always walk like that?” Isak asks, following me.

“Why not?” I ask, and I’m laughing. Feeling stoked. Isak falls into step with me. “So, how did it go? Your test?”

“I think it went okay. Maybe not the best test I ever took. But I’m pretty sure I passed it,” he tells me.

“Of course you passed it. You’re so smart!” I feel like I’m pointing out the obvious here.

We walk through Oslo to the Radisson Plaza Hotel. It’s an extremely luxurious hotel. A really beautiful building too. I booked a junior suite. A junior suite with a wedding package. Because we’re going to get married, I’m telling you. The room costs 5,045 NOK. For those of you who do not know anything about Norwegian Crowns—5,045 NOK is €554,19. Kinda expensive. Who cares? I don’t. It could be more too. 

“You booked a room at the Radisson?” Isak asks, surprised.

“Yes!” I beam at him. “I promised you, didn’t I? I told you, you would get a surprise!”

“You did.”

We enter the hotel and head to the desk. A dark haired woman sits behind it. She looks up as we approach.

“Hi,” I greet her as I lean on the desk.

“Hi,” she replies, smiling like receptionists are supposed to do.

“We have booked a room under the name Even Bech Nӕsheim.”

She regards her computer screen. “Yes, welcome.” 

“Thank you very much,” I say.

“Can I see some ID?” She speaks with a Danish accent.

I grab my ID out of my pocket. I’m glad I thought about bringing it with me. I almost forgot this morning.

“Are you Danish?” I ask the woman as I hand her the card.

“Yes, I am,” she says.

“Are you Danish!? Wow!” I turn to smile at Isak. She’s Danish! “How fun, I’m a huge fan of Danes!”

I mention several Danish movies I know, including Stars Without Brains. Which is by far the worst movie ever. The receptionist knows that too, because when I mention it she shakes her head. “Not that one.”

I laugh, glad that she passed the test, and look at Isak next. “Don’t you like Denmark?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nods. “Denmark is great.” He laughs, it’s the sound of my life.

“This is my boyfriend,” I tell the receptionist as I wrap an arm around him and pull him to me.

“How nice,” she says.

“Yeah, very nice,” I agree. “Isn’t he handsome?”

“ _ Hadsome _ ?” the receptionist asks. She doesn’t understand me.

“Yeah, uhm. How do you say it in Danish? Hot…?” I’m racking my brain for any Danish words, but no good ones come to mind. Note to myself: have to learn Danish.

I transfer to English instead, that she’ll understand. “Eh, what do you say? Isn’t this man beautiful?”

Isak laughs while the receptionist agrees with me. Of course she does. “Yes, very.”

“Very beautiful,” I say. Isak shakes his head—probably a bit self-conscious to be the subject of this conversation, but he doesn’t look too scared or anything. His lips still curled up in a smile. Cute little curves in his cheeks.

The receptionist goes back to looking at her computer screen, smiling. Then she reaches in a drawer and hands me a key card for the room. “It’s on the top floor, you can take the elevators to your right. Room service is also available.”

“Thank you so much,” I say and we head for the elevators.

One side of the elevator is entirely made out of glass. It gives us a beautiful view of Oslo. The further we go up, the more we see. It’s amazing, it feels like flying. Note to myself: have to fly.

I feel so stoked! This day is turning out great. My beautiful Isak is here with me. We’ll be together all day and all night in this beautiful hotel in this beautiful city. Everything shines today.

Stoked!

We look out over Oslo through the glass wall while we ascend. Isak smiles and I wrap my arm around him to pull him into a hug. Now that we’re alone we can finally kiss. A kiss he initiates. I love it when he initiates! He’s so good at initiating. And so good at kissing too.

The room is amazing. It’s huge and the view is grand. But I don’t care for any of it. All I care about is being with Isak now. He’s looking out of the window while I take off my backpack and my coat. Then I wrap a hand around his upper arm and turn him to me.

“Do you like it? Your surprise?”

“I love it,” he smiles. Gah! His smile. He has no idea how it makes me so hot for him.

So stoked. So fired up.

He lifts his head and leans into me, and we kiss. An open mouthed, hungry kiss. A kiss that’s begging for more. A kiss that makes me forget everything else. I lead him with me through the grand living area to the bedroom. There’s a king sized bed with white beddings. It looks very fluffy and comfy. Very good for having sex.

Our mouths are locked together. Isak’s tongue grazing over my teeth, searching, twirling around mine. His hands on my back, fingers digging in. It’s so hot. I’m so stoked. Need to take our clothes off now. This need, this hunger needs to be satiated

We undress ourselves and each other and land on the bed together. Isak pulls me on top of him and I bury my face in his neck. Licking, sucking hard to leave a mark. He moans and pushes his body into the contact. Fuck. Damn. I’m craving him, craving him so much. Want to feel him in my mouth, want to make him come. I press my mouth once more against his and then I travel down over his body. Kissing his chest, his nipples. My teeth softly raking over them, which makes him whimper.

I need more of his whimpers in my life.

He’s my life. I fucking love him. Worship him. Adore him.

My lips travel further down. I can’t stall this anymore—I need him in my mouth now. Take him in my mouth now. He’s hard. Hard and warm and hot and damn, it feels good to suck him off like this. He tastes so good. He smells so good. I love him. I love this. I suck his dick with all that I’m worth. With every sucking motion my mouth makes his whimpers are getting louder and turn into moans and into cries and then his body starts to shudder and tremble and shake and then he comes. Comes in my mouth. And I swallow everything he has to offer me.

He tastes so good. I’m devoted. I’m stoked.

Isak’s come down from his high as I go and lie next to him, to stare at him. To appreciate his beauty. He smiles. God, his smile! 

“You’re so beautiful,” I say as I brush with my thumb over his cheek. His smile widens. My finger traces the curves in his cheek. We lay like this for several minutes. Anticipation is building. My heart is racing.

Isak props himself up on his elbows, staring down on me. He doesn’t say anything, he just looks. A look that turns me on. And then he moves. He turns me on my back and starts raining kisses over my face and my neck and then he copies my every movement going down, down, down. His lips, his hands. They’re everywhere. All I feel, all I know, all the world is Isak. And it’s all that matters now and all that truly ever mattered.

We’re so getting married.

And do this every single day. Over and over and over again.

My eyes close and I throw my head back in the pillow when his hand slides around my dick and then his lips are on me and oh my fucking god this is so hot hot horny damn I can’t breathe I can’t breathe. His lips, his tongue, his hands. He’s buying me a stairway to heaven. 

His tongue is twirling around my cock—stars of fireworks exploding behind my eyelids. He’s fucking driving me crazy. More of it, I need more. He gives me more. He gives me everything as I come. And explode and fall apart and then I fall apart some more, and then I pull him up and against me and kiss him savagely on his mouth. Hungry for more, for more.

He’s on top of me now, his lips are softly nibbling at my lower lip. I’m trying to calm down my breathing, but it’s kind of difficult with his naked body against mine. I feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Need to make him come again. Want to do what he did with his legs, him between my legs. Want to do that. We’re doing that.

I shift my legs so his dick is pressed between them. He looks in my eyes as he starts to thrust slowly. His eyes so dark, the green almost gone. He’s so hot. Hot for me, too. I feel him between my legs, his tip bumping into my balls with every thrust. I didn’t expect that to feel so good. Almost enough to make me come, too. The friction his lower body creates makes me moan. His name on my lips. “Isak… faster.”

He goes faster. And then his hand reaches between us and his fingers wrap around me. He squeezes and I yelp in surprise. His hand moves, his hips move, I move. We both move and move, further up, up up up in the sky where we fly and fly and we’ll never land. We’re busy being born.

Because those who aren’t busy being born are busy dying.

He’s coming, I can feel it. I feel everything about him now. I know what he needs and how to give it to him. I’m really good at worshipping him. I’m coming, too. His hand is jerking as his body starts to shiver and my body is shivering too as we reach an orgasm together. Completely one, we are.

We belong together.

We’re going to get married!

I’m so stoked about it!

We lie still for awhile. Slowly returning to earth. I don’t want to go to earth, but I guess there’s no stopping it. We’ll go back to heaven again later.

Isak says he’s hungry so we order room service. It’s part of the wedding package. Fries with mini burgers and champagne.

When it arrives we go to the living room, wearing only the white comforters, wrapped around our waists. We sit down on the floor to eat.

The burgers look very good. I take a huge bite out of one. Tastes good, too. Everything is so wonderful today. “Try this burger!” I say.

“Good?” Isak reaches for one and takes a bite. “Mmh!” He nods appreciatively.

“You know, at our wedding we’ll only serve mini burgers,” I tell him.

Isak licks off his fingers and chuckles. “At our wedding? Really?”

I lock eyes with him. “You don’t think we’ll get married? We’re so fucking getting married! Grand fucking wedding!”

I laugh and take the champagne glass to take a sip. “And we’ll show up as god and Julius Caesar.”

Isak laughs too. It’s life!

“No, you know what?” I’ve changed my mind. This is an even better idea. “We’ll show up as… just completely naked. Completely naked. No clothes. From now on we’ll do everything naked.”

“Okay,” Isak agrees.

From now on we’ll do everything naked. I think it’s a great idea.

“And I’ll propose to you from a balcony. Just imagine me driving up in a white limousine Tesla.” I’m laughing now, picturing the idea. “I’ll be driving up and I’ll yell, ‘Princess Vivian!’”

“Princess Vivian?” Isak stares at me in amazement.

“It would be completely genius if that was your answer! Because then, the whole joke is that you’d think it’s a Romeo and Juliet reference. But you don’t get it until you enter the balcony, and you see me sitting, naked, with a tie. And that’s when you get the reference!”

Isak keeps staring at me.

“And after I’ve climbed up the balcony I’ll ask you, ‘What happens after I rescue you?’ And then you answer…”

Isak keeps staring at me. Doesn’t he know Pretty Woman? He didn’t get it with the eggs last week either. Note to myself: need to educate Isak on movies.

“I’ll rescue you right back.” I raise my eyebrows at him. Pretty Woman. Come on! Richard Gere and Julia Roberts!

“It would be so fucking funny!” I exclaim. “It’s actually one of my dreams. It’s one of my dreams.”

It would be so awesome. Our marriage.

What about marriage?

What about mini burgers?

What about white limo Teslas?

When we’re finished dinner we go back to the bed. Make some more love. There’s never enough love to make. Always make more.

Night falls as we’re lying next to each other. Isak’s lying on his stomach, facing my way. He’s blinking, sleepy. I can’t believe how it’s even possible to be sleepy when you have a night like this one. I never want it to end. I’ll never sleep.

He probably will, soon. He’s so tranquil now. The thousand thoughts in my mind are silenced by his tranquility. I stretch my hand out and softly brush with my finger over his eyebrow.

“How many Isaks and Evens do you think are lying like this, right now?” I whisper.

“Infinite,” he whispers back.

“In infinite time?”

“Yeah.”

I brush my hand through his hair, stroking his ear. His tranquility makes me melancholic. 

“You know, the only way to have something for infinite time is by losing it,” I say.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he frowns at me.

Don’t want to make him frown. My thumb brushes over his cheek. “I’m only joking.”

His eyes close. He drifts off, off into oblivion. Where I can’t follow.

What about oblivion?

What about the night’s sky?

What about taking a swim?

The Oslofjord is close by. I could walk there. The seawater would be a bit cold maybe. But I don’t care about cold. If I go to the harbour I could take a swim. Maybe to one of the islands. I could do that.

Can’t stay in bed. I get up and go to the huge bathroom where I take a long shower. Then back to the bedroom. Isak seems asleep, but then I hear him say, “Don’t you ever sleep?”

I jump on the bed and press my lips against his cheek. “Not when you’re lying here looking so fucking hot.”

He opens his eyes and chuckles, but then they close again and he drifts off.

What about drifting off?

I could drift off. I’m up and out of the bed again. In the living room I stare out the window, watching Oslo beneath me.

What about taking a swim in the Oslofjord?

What about our marriage?

What about mini burgers?

What about Pretty Woman?

What about Romeo and Juliet?

What about love?

What about death?

What about mini burgers?

What about cheese burgers?

I should get us some cheese burgers from the MacDonalds.

I walk from the living room to the bathroom to the bedroom where I sit down and start to put on my right shoe. Isak awakes. “Baby, come lie down with me,” he says softly.

“Yeah. I’ll just go out and buy some McDonald’s first,” I say while putting on my other shoe. The left one, I think.

Go, go, go. Wearing only shoes, because, as Isak agreed, we’re going to do everything naked from now on. Who needs clothes anyway, right?

Down the elevator. Oslo looks so pretty at night.

Through the lobby. The Danish receptionist is still there. “Hi!” I wave at her.

She rises from her seat and stares at me, open mouthed. It makes me laugh. “I’m going to get us some cheese burgers,” I explain.

Through the doors I go. Where is the McDonalds? Left or right? I take a random direction. 

Maybe I should go to the harbour first to take that swim.

What about taking a swim?

What about drinking a bottle of scotch?

What about getting married?

What about infinity?

What about life?

What about death?

What about being busy getting born?

What about being busy dying?

What about Isak?

I hesitate. Maybe I should’ve brought him with me? Maybe I should go back to get him?

A police car stops right next to the sidewalk, and a policeman opens the door and steps out. “Hey, young man!”

Startled, I turn around. “Who, me?”

The other police officer gets out too. “Why are you walking around in the middle of the night, naked?” he asks.

“Well, we’ve decided to do everything naked from now on,” I explain and I laugh.

The officer shakes his head, walks to the trunk of the car and opens it. He comes walking to me with a throw blanket in his hand and throws it around my shoulders.

“Hey, don’t,” I say, wanting to shake the blanket off, but the policeman is stronger than I anticipated. He wraps the blanket tightly around me and holds me still in his grip.

“I think you’d better come with us,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“No, no,” I say as I tense up. “I have to go back to Isak. He’s expecting me back.”

“Who’s Isak?” the man asks.

“He’s my boyfriend.” I’m starting to panic. “I need to go back to him.”

“We’re taking you to the precinct, and there you can call him. What’s your name?”

“Even. Even Bech Nӕsheim.”

“Okay, Even, calm down now. I need you to calm down and come with us. Okay?” The officer leads me, gently but persistently, to his car and makes me sit down on the back seat. Then he gets in next to me. The other one takes the wheel and we take off. To the police station.

What about the police station?

What about mini burgers?

What about Isak and our marriage?

Suddenly I feel scared. Why am I here? What am I doing here?

At the police station they give me some clothes to wear. Reluctantly I put them on. I don’t know how to reach Isak. I don’t know his number. The police officer calls my parents instead. Then he makes me sit in a chair and drink some hot tea. 

What about Isak?

I want to ask the police officer about Isak, but somehow I can’t. I just sit there, in someone else’s clothes, drinking someone else’s tea. What the hell am I doing here?

My parents are there half an hour later. With Ben. They actually brought Ben with them. He talks to me, asks me how I feel. I shake my head. I don’t feel.

I’m empty.

 

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn

Suicide remarks are torn

From the fool’s gold mouthpiece the hollow horn

Plays wasted words, proves to warn

That he not busy being born is busy dying

\-        Bob Dylan,  _ It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) _

 

 

 

 


	12. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers episode Nine of Skam S3.  
> Special thanks go to @maxwellandlovelace for helping me translate the song 'O Helga Natt' from Swedish to English. You might think it's the same as the Christmas Carol 'O Holy Night,' but it isn't. The lyrics are different.  
> Disclaimer: ‘We were born to die’ is a line from Romeo and Juliet.  
> 'Born to Endless Night' comes from a poem from William Blake, 'Auguries of Innocence.'  
> Songs quoted: 'Cherry Wine' from Nas, 'Hello' from Evanescence.  
> Trigger warning: signs of depression and mental illness in this chapter.

 

We were born to die. Born to endless night.

It’s dark.

I feel so heavy. Like some invisible weight is pressing me down. Ben persuaded me to take a sleeping pill together with a double dose of quetiapine. Now every limb in my body feels like a dead weight on me.

“You have to sleep,” Ben told me.

Why, though? Why sleep. I can sleep when I’m dead. Which might be any time soon anyway.

What about sleep?

Sleep is a naturally recurring state of mind and body characterized by altered consciousness. I got that from Wikipedia. It means nothing to me. But I know sleep is a necessity. And it’s exactly what I don’t do when I’m manic. And that’s exactly why I’m always so exhausted afterwards.

This manic episode I woke up from today wasn’t even that long. It wasn’t long, but it was intense. I spent a lot of my parents money. Went outside naked in the middle of the night. Could have been hurt, and hurt badly. My mother said I was lucky the police found me when they did. If someone else would’ve found me first, I could have been beaten up or worse. So apparently I was lucky.

Yeah. I feel so lucky. Note the sarcasm, if you will. So fucking lucky.

But I was a fool. A fool to believe I could do without medication. A fool to believe that Isak could heal me. No one can. And I am alone in the end.

Forever. The only way to have something forever is by losing it. I feel like I’ve lost him. And now I’m so alone, again. As I always was. And always will be. In the end no one really understands. No one knows my thoughts and gets them and understands what it’s like to be me. To live inside my head.

Unworthy, little me.

Sonja comes by. She brings my stuff. My clothes, my backpack, my phone.

“Where did you get these from?” I ask.

“From the hotel,” she replies.

“What about Isak?” I say softly.

“I sent him home.”

“What did you say to him?” I’m dreading her answer.

“I told him you were manic. That you’re not well.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything.”

I suck in a breath. I wonder how he feels. How I made him feel. Hurt? Betrayed? Fucked up. Messed up.

Sonja tells me to take care of myself and then she takes off. We’re still through. That didn’t change, she knows that. She says she still cares, though. She’ll always care. I am so lucky.

I feel so heavy. Need myself some Isak. But I don’t know what to do or how to approach him. I’m sitting in my windowsill, smoking a cigarette and thinking about him and about that Friday evening weeks ago. When he was sitting across from me in this window. How we laughed and talked about music. I play Nas on my phone, Cherry Wine.

_ With all respect ‘cause you are the only one who gets me _

_ Where is he? The man who was just like me? _

_ I heard he was hidin’ somewhere I can’t see. _

_ And I’m alone… _

I copy-paste the entire lyrics and send them to Isak. The only one who gets me. I can’t say anything to him. I can’t talk. Have to let the lyrics talk for me.

He sends me a text back.

 

I throw the phone through the room.

FUCK!

I fucked this up. This one thing in my life that was wonderful. This one thing that was miraculous. I fucked it up so bad. A fool, I was a fool to believe. To believe life could be good. To believe he could save me. To believe I could keep him from knowing the truth. He knows it now. And hates me for it. As well he should.

It’s dark.

I don’t go to school but I do go to see Ben on Tuesday.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

I shrug. How does he think I’m doing? Why is he asking such a fucking stupid question? It makes me furious, and it makes me want to punch him in the face.

He shakes his head at me as if he can read my mind. “What happened that made you manic? Your mother said you weren’t taking medication, is that true?”

“I thought I could do without, you know.” I explain, “I was at Isak’s all week and I could sleep. I slept. So I thought I could do without and that his love for me was enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“For keeping the episodes at bay. I thought he could heal me. I know it’s stupid, but it’s just... I never felt like this before.”

It stays quiet while I rearrange my thoughts. I’ve difficulty trying to get them out in coherent sentences.

“I thought maybe this time it would be different.” I rake my fingers through my hair and sigh. “I really thought it was different.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Because I love him so much. And he’s so…” my voice breaks. What am I supposed to say, that he’s so beautiful? That might be true, but how would that help with anything. “I believed he was like my guardian angel. That he was going to catch me when I fall.”

“But he didn’t.” Ben states it simple, without any question or accusation in his voice.

“He didn’t because I didn’t tell him I’m bipolar.”

“You think he could’ve caught you if you’d told him?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Listen hun, you have to become the director of your life movie again.” Ben knows my theory on life as a movie, obviously. “I mean, it’s okay to be in love and to think this love is wonderful. It can be the most wonderful thing in your life. You can be thrilled about it, even stoked. But you can’t let him be the main character of your life. You are the main character of your life. You know that, Even.”

I nod but I don’t say anything.

“He can’t save you. You have to save yourself and draw strength from his love for you,” Ben says. “And know, deep down, that  _ you  _ are worth it.”

I stare at him while I let his words sink in. Draw strength from his love. Know that I’m worth it. Save myself.

How?

“How?”

“How? By finding yourself again. Accept yourself. Forgive yourself. Love yourself. You think you can’t do it. But you are strong, Even. You can do it. And I’ve seen you do it before. This is not going to get you down.”

“Hmm.”

“I know you don’t see it now. But remember what I’ve said. Soon enough you’ll see the truth in it.”

What about truth?

The truth comes out eventually. All lies exposed. But what is truth? Is Ben’s truth the same as mine? I’m not so sure about that. But I’m not sure about anything anymore. And certainly not sure of myself.

I spend my Wednesday sitting at home behind my laptop. I’m working on a project, a movie I made with Mikael. It’s been shot almost a year ago but it still needs editing. It helps me to do this stuff now. I’m not thinking about anything but the task at hand. Cut a second in this scene, change the lighting in that scene. Search for hours on end for that perfect song that I know is out there and can serve as a score for another scene. Nothing distracts me from my editing. I don’t eat, I don’t drink, I don’t sleep. Don’t need it. And I feel no pain. No heartache. No guilt.

Ugh. The guilt.

The guilt is always everywhere.

I feel guilt toward my parents for letting them down. For failing in school. For having another manic episode. For spending their money. For making them worry. For destroying their lives.

I feel guilt toward the world for taking up space, for breathing in oxygen. Perfectly fine oxygen, could have been put to so much better use than for my lungs to breathe in.

Most of all, and this is what I don’t want to know and don’t want to feel, I feel guilty toward Isak. He didn’t deserve this. I know I broke his heart by lying to him. By hurting him. I was so afraid of losing him. I’d forgotten that the only way to have something is by losing it.

And I’m alone.

It’s two in the morning when my father knocks on my door and tells me to stop working and go to sleep. I check my phone. One missed call. Wednesday at 17:01, Isak.

I can’t believe he called me. And that I missed it.

There’s a text message too.

 

Tears are pricking in my eyes. God. It hurts. I never cry, I don’t cry. But it hurts like hell. I can’t call him. And put him through this. I will only end up hurting him and that’s the last thing I want. For him to be hurt. I already hurt him and it breaks my heart. It fucking breaks my heart that I did that, and I loathe myself for it.

I don’t sleep.

The only way to sleep now is with extra medication and I don’t want it. It makes me hazy and so heavy and not myself at all. I take my regular meds now, but it’s not enough to make me sleep. So I lie awake, staring at my bedroom ceiling. Wondering how I’m going to make it through this night and tomorrow and the night after that and the night after that and the night after that.

Night.

What about night?

Night is black against the white of day. Night is darkness against the light of day. But basically, it’s just because the earth is turning away from the sun. That’s what night is. That’s what I am now. Turned away from my sun.

Isak Valtersen.

God it hurts. I listen to Evanescence. It’s an American rock band. They make music that’s always perfect for moods like mine this night.

_ If I smile and don’t believe. Soon I know I’ll wake from this dream. Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken. Hello, I’m the lie living for you so you can hide. I don’t cry. _

_ Suddenly I know I’m not sleeping. Hello. I’m still here. All that’s left of yesterday. _

All that’s left is nothing.

After two nights of almost non-sleep, I break down. It’s dark outside, the year is coming to its end. Snow has fallen. It’s cold, it’s ice. It’s ice cold.

I have to get out of here.

I don’t think Ben is right. He said I was strong, but I’m not. I can’t take it, can’t deal with it. The guilt weighs me down. And I’m thinking everyone, especially Isak, would be better off without me. Such an epic fail. Useless. Someone who needs to be constantly looked after. Seriously though, I’m not any positive addition to this world. I suck, basically.

I have to get out of here.

It ends here tonight.

Because I’m so done.

I had this epic love story, it lasted longer than Romeo and Juliet’s did. I should count that as a blessing and make my peace with it. That it’s the end. On this night.

It’s so cold outside. I’m wearing a warm winter coat, a hat, an extra sweater, a hoodie, everything. But it’s still so freaking cold outside.

Where to go?

I could still go to the Oslofjord and jump in. Probably won’t survive that, but who cares. But it’s so cold though and the water would make it worse.

Where to go?

Is it fate?

Is it coincidence?

My feet take me to the theater. The place where we met. The bench where we smoked our first joint together. It’s abandoned now, although our school, across the yard, is open. I sit down on the bench and light a cigarette. My heart hurts. My lungs hurt. Everything hurts.

Yeah, I’m a fucking cliché.

So he’s not going to come and save me, I know that. Have to save myself. I can’t do that. But I have to let him know though, have to tell him that I’m sorry and that I love him and that I didn’t mean to hurt him and that I love him so much so much so true. So much. So true.

I take my phone from my pocket and check the time. 20:30. Have to tell him. Have to let him know. My fingers start to type.

 

Send.

It’s so cold in this night.

He’s not going to come and save me. I’m alone like everyone always is.

What about loneliness?

It’s the night sky in winter. Purple, with a swirl of black and a touch of dark blue.

I finish the cigarette and get up. Can’t jump in the Oslofjord, it’s too cold. Instead I enter the school and go to the bathroom. The towel dispenser is filled with paper towels. I take one. Only one. It was all or nothing…

Nothing.

I got nothing.

Maybe this disorder of mine will be the death of me. 5-10% of the people who are bipolar commit suicide. It’s not that much, but I can just as well be one of those 5-10% as I can be one of the other 90-95%.

Why not?

I throw the paper towel in the bin and look at myself in the mirror. Pale, a bit sunken. It doesn’t look good. Maybe I should go home. I think it’ll be the safest thing to do. Go home or call someone. Sonja maybe? Or my father? I can’t guarantee I won’t do anything crazy or dangerous tonight. Can’t trust myself. And in the end I don’t want to be part of the 5-10%. It would severely suck if I was part of that group of people. You know, the dead people. The thought of my parents standing over my grave always keeps me from going through with it. But then again, I think they’re better off without me. Without me.

I should go.

I don’t know where to.

With a last look in the mirror I turn and walk to the exit. My head cast down as I walk into the night. Into the cold. I slam the door behind me and take a few steps.

Is it fate?

Is it coincidence?

Or is it his heartbeat that beats the rhythm of my life? I can sense that he’s there. I cannot believe it, but I can sense it and I look up.

And he’s there.

Standing in the middle of the yard. Halfway between the bench and the entrance of the school where I’m standing. Standing still.

He’s there.

I really think my heart stopped beating for a full second. Maybe even more.

This person is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. He’s an angel. That’s the only explanation for his beauty. There must be a god somewhere who created him. And then sent him to me. I wonder if that means that this god would actually care about me. Maybe I should capitalise him from now on: God. God sent me an angel.

He’s staring at me and then he starts to walk. Slowly, as if in slow motion his feet bring him across the yard, closing the distance between us. As he walks I notice my own feet follow his example. He’s like a magnet. Have to be with him. I cannot believe it but I have to be with him.

He may not be able to save me, but God, I need him.

And he’s here now. I cannot believe it I still cannot believe it cannot. But then I feel his forehead as he presses it against mine. His presence as real as the night. I smell him, this innate Isakness of him. I feel him, his warmth so profound in the coldness of this night. I see him, his beauty, every inch of him. I hear him, his breath as he exhales. All my senses is Isak.

He moves to my right, presses his nose against my jaw. Then he moves again, to my left. I feel his breath tickle against my left ear. His lips brush softly, so softly against my cheek. I need more softness in my life. I close my eyes and nuzzle my nose against his cheekbone. He reaches up his hands and cups my face, his thumbs pressing into my cheeks. He’s so close now. I open my eyes and see him lifting his head and looking at me. His eyes green, the colour of life. So close. My head in his hands.

And he says, “You are not alone.”

Our noses touch and I close my eyes.  _ You are not alone. _

Remember when I wondered which angel Isak was? A guardian angel? An angel with a fiery sword, keeping me out of Eden? An angel who would catch me if I fall? I was wrong.

He’s a messenger. An angel with a message of hope and love.  _ You are not alone. _

A message of a promise. A kiss from heaven. A carrier of good news. An angel is a messenger. That’s what the word means in Greek.

_ You are not alone. _

Draw strength from his love. And live.

My eyes are still closed as Isak moves again, and then I feel his lips against mine in the sweetest of kisses. A kiss from heaven. And I find the strength inside of me to kiss him back. To love him back. I realize I can do that.

Soon it will be 21:21. It’s an angel number. It signifies so many things. It’s about making the right choices for the future. It’s about being grateful. It’s about keeping the faith. It’s about wonderful opportunities and new directions to take. It’s about planting new seeds. It’s about feeling gratitude for the blessings we’ve received.

On this night I feel it. The significance of it. The blessing I’ve received just now. And the presence of my angel who’s with me all the way. His lips leave mine as his arms circle around me, and he pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him and press my face against his shoulder. I hold on to him as he holds on to me. Can we take a new direction together on this night?

This holy night. This night of my salvation.

 

_ And a beam of hope goes through the world, _

_ And a light shines over land and sea. _

 

_ People, fall down now, and happily greet your freedom. _

_ O holy night. You gave us salvation. _

_ O holy night. You gave us salvation. _

 

 

 

 


	13. Rise

 

_ I must stay conscious _

_ Through the madness and chaos _

_ So I call on my angel _

_ He says: _

 

_ Oh, ye of so little faith _

_ Don't doubt it, don't doubt it _

_ Victory is in your veins _

_ You know it, you know it _

_ And you will not negotiate _

_ Just fight it, just fight it _

_ And be transformed _

 

_ 'Cause when, when the fire's at my feet again _

_ And the vultures all start circling _

_ They're whispering, "You're out of time" _

_ But still I rise _

_ This is no mistake, no accident _

_ When you think the final nail is in _

_ Think again _

_ You’ll be surprised _

_ I will still rise _

 

\- Katy Perry,  _ Rise _

* * *

 

Don’t want to wake up.

 

 

Hazy.

 

 

This world between pain and oblivion.

 

 

Gauzy.

 

 

Need to stay here.

 

 

Gray swirls of lost dreams.

 

 

Can’t wake up.

 

 

I’m asleep.

 

I’m waking up.

 

My eyes flutter open and I squeeze them closed again. Daylight peers through the orange curtain. I turn around and close my eyes again. No daylight.

  
  


Not now.

  
  


Someone’s pulling the comforter closer around me. I feel the warmth of it. The fact that I’m aware of this tells me I’m emerging, but I don’t want to wake up. Stay under a little longer.

It’s foggy in my head.

 

Not yet.

 

The day has arrived. My eyes open and I know instantly I’m not alone. I look up and straight into Isak’s dark green eyes, staring at me. He’s lying on his stomach, his face turned to me. He lies the way he always does. There’s something reassuring about that.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” I reply, my voice sounds croaky. I feel croaky, too.

I look up at the orange cloth pretending to be a curtain. I can hardly believe it, but that curtain proves I’m actually at Isak’s. In his house, in his bed, with him lying here next to me. I remember it now. He brought me home with him yesterday. Luckily I’d brought my meds with me, and I’ve texted my parents, too, so they wouldn’t be worried. I remember sitting on Isak’s bed, texting them. After that I don’t really recall what happened. I think I kind of lost consciousness because I was so fucking exhausted.

“Hungry?” Isak asks.

His question barely registers. Now that I’m conscious again I wonder: why am I here? I shouldn’t be here.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Around ten thirty or something,” he replies, without checking it.

Ten thirty? Really? That means I’ve slept throughout the night.

“I should leave,” I say.

“Why?”

Why? Good question. There are a million answers to it. Because you shouldn’t want to be with me. Because all I’m good at is breaking your heart like I broke everyone else’s.

“Because I don’t want you to lie here and feel like you have to look after me,” I finally say.

“I don’t feel like I’m looking after you,” Isak says, but I don’t believe him for a second.

I go to lay on my back, breathe in deeply and close my eyes.

“And why… why is that wrong?” Isak asks.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, but I just can’t stand that you lie here all sad,” I say while staring at the ceiling.

“I’m not sad,” his voice drops to a whisper.

I swallow against the lump in my throat. “I just know this isn’t going to work out.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” I say as I turn and look in his eyes. “I’m just going to hurt you, and then you’ll hate me.”

“No!” he sounds a little upset. “You don’t know shit about how this is going to end. I mean, we might get a nuclear bomb dropped on our heads tomorrow, and then discussing this is a waste of time, so I suggest that you just screw talking about the future, and then the two of us will just take this thing completely chill.”

I stare at him in pure wonder. He’s deadly serious though, he actually wants to stay together. He wants to stay. Or, better said, he wants me to stay.

“Let’s play a game,” Isak continues, “It goes like this. It’s called ‘Isak and Even: minute by minute.’ It…”

He takes his hand from underneath his body and places it on my cheek. Fingers brushing through the hair in my neck. “It’s about how the only thing we need to worry about is the next minute.”

His thumb caresses through my hair. I feel his touch so profoundly. It’s overpowering me.

“You up for it?” he asks.

If I’m up for it? The next minute? I decide to take a leap here. “Okay.”

He keeps touching me, stroking my hair. There’s something so comforting in his touch. We stay quiet for a little while.

“What should we do this minute then?” I ask.

“This minute we kiss,” Isak says.

It makes me smile, barely, but it’s a smile nonetheless. One point for Isak for making me smile. It’s quite an accomplishment. “That’s chill,” I say.

He nods, “That’s chill.”

And then he moves to me, his nose nuzzles against mine before he presses his lips on my mouth. They’re so soft. I kiss him back. His hand slides over my face, it feels warm. Everything is warm now, in a comfortable way. When the minute’s over Isak breaks off the kiss, and I bury my face in the pillow. I feel his nose against the bridge of mine as I close my eyes. I’m drained.

Sleep’s oblivion pulls me back under.

Isak’s still there when I wake up. He’s sitting with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, working on his laptop. I move a little so my head presses against his upper leg. His hand leaves the keyboard and he brushes through my hair with his fingers.

I can’t believe it. Can’t believe that I’m here with him in his bed. And that he actually wants me too. I’m still not sure it’s a good idea, but he doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s hard to argue with him once he sets his mind to something. I love that about him. I also love that I seem to get to know him a little better. See sides of him I haven’t seen before. Appreciate the way he cares and loves now that I’m down and low.

I fight it though. I don’t want him to care for me. I want him to be happy, and I’d do anything to make that happen. He just doesn’t understand that me leaving him would probably make him the most happy. In the end. Maybe a little heartbroken now, but eventually happy.

He asks me how I feel and if I want to eat something. I don’t reply. I only reach up a hand and put it on his leg.

“I should leave,” I say.

“Even, we’ve already discussed that,” Isak says, resolute. “I’m not going to let you leave just because you think you’ll hurt me.”

“But you don’t understand that this-”

“Stop it.” Isak puts away his laptop, and lies down so he’s facing me. “You don’t get to decide for me what I want or not want, okay? I want you here. It’s that simple.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he whispers, and I see a light shine in his eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

I stare at him, my mouth open in amazement. “You’re in love with me?”

“Of course,” he says, “I’ve been in love with you since we smoked that joint together on that bench in front of the theater.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiles now and presses his lips against mine. His hand cups my neck as he pulls me close. I open my mouth and our tongues meet. It’s such a strange sensation. To be told by the person you love that he loves you back. To be kissed like this. And at the same time to feel so weary and worn out.

“I’m so tired,” I whisper when we break off the kiss.

“Then sleep some more, it’s okay,” Isak says. He traces with his finger over my jaw and my bottom lip. “Just sleep.”

 

He says. I do.

 

Oblivion.

 

Misty dreams.

  
  


Stars and angels.

  
  


Waking up again in Isak’s bed.

 

It’s a cycle that repeats itself for quite some time.

Sunday evening Isak finally gets me to eat something, after two days of almost constant sleep. It’s normal for me after a manic episode to sleep like this. And last week, the week without Isak, was a sleepless week. I feel down, I feel blue, but I also know I need this period of sleep to recover.

And I will recover.

Isak comes into the bedroom with a pizza, which we share. It actually tastes good and it feels good to have food in my stomach again. We watch a movie together, snuggled against each other in Isak’s bed. Isak’s bed is my world now. Really small, but also very real and significant.

Isak tells me he has to go to school tomorrow. “You can stay here, though,” he says. “I’ll be home at 15:30. Okay? And Eskild will be here, in case you need anything.”

I nod. I’m grateful that he’s letting me stay. I’ve grown kind of attached to my little world. It’s safe here. And I don’t have to face anything difficult. I can just sleep. Sleep and wake to Isak being here. It’s still something of a dream to me.

That he loves me. Like I love him. And maybe we could… maybe we could try?

It’s too huge to really think about it. Take it a minute at a time. Or an hour maybe. Nothing too big to take on. Sleeping sounds like the best idea now.

And I do. Isak’s lying with his head against my shoulder, his arm wrapped around me when I fall asleep. And I feel safe.

* * *

When I wake up he’s gone, gone to school. There’s a knock on the door and Eskild enters.

“Hi,” he says, “How are you?”

“Tired,” I say.

“I made you some breakfast,” Eskild holds up a plate. “We could go to the kitchen to eat something?”

I notice the grumbling in my stomach and decide to do just that. I wonder what motivated Eskild to make breakfast for me. Probably Isak talked him into it. That thought makes me smile. I never thought Isak would be such a giving person. I mean, I always knew he was wonderful, but today I feel I love him even more. Making his roommates take care of me.

It’s weird, because at the same time I hate it. I hate it to be taken care of. I hate it that it’s necessary now.

Eskild has made me two sandwiches with cheese and jam, but I have difficulty finishing only one, together with a cup of tea.

When I drained the tea I get up and go back to Isak’s room to lie down again in my world. An hour or so later Eskild’s back knocking on the door again. “I wondered if you’d want to come and play some Yahtzee with me?” he asks.

Is he serious? Yahtzee? So apparently I’m also enrolled in some activity program. I chuckle and nod. “I’ll be right there.”

One point for Eskild for making me chuckle.

We play Yahtzee and watch some TV. Planet Earth. I’m in awe, really, when I see a program about sea lions and penguins living in the snow on the South Pole. How could anyone live like that, I wonder.

The music, the flashy images, they wear me down. So after about an hour I go back to bed. I miss Isak. Can’t help myself, but I really do.

And still so tired.

It’s not over, this depression. Not yet. And Isak’s not going to save me. I’m thinking about Ben’s words. You have to save yourself.

How?

While I lie buried under the covers, which smell like Isak, I’m rethinking what Ben told me last week in answer to this question. How?

_ By finding yourself again. Accept yourself. Forgive yourself. Love yourself. _

Don’t doubt it. Just fight it. Something like that. But I get so fucking tired of fighting. So fucking tired. I need to sleep.

When Isak comes home he convinces me to go out for some kebab. It’s the first time since Friday that I go outside and breath in the cold winter air. I’ve slept through most of the afternoon and feel just enough energy to indulge Isak. He’s being so good to me, though, so good. Don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.

“Can I stay with you?” I ask him as we walk back to his house.

“Of course you can,” he replies as he grabs my hand. Hand in hand we walk through the streets. That’s when it suddenly hits me. Isak’s actually holding my hand. Outside in the street, for everyone to see. I squeeze lightly and he squeezes back, flashing me a smile. “I’d love it if you stayed with me.”

“But… uhm. Won’t it be… I mean, are your flatmates okay with it?”

“Yes, of course. They’re completely chill,” Isak says.

When we come home I go back to bed. It was kind of exhausting to be outside.

* * *

Noora knocks on the door and enters the room. “Even? Hi?” she says.

I can’t reply. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I can’t. It’s too heavy today. Isak’s back in school and I took an extra dose of meds this morning, a way to get me through the day.

Noora walks over to the bed and kneels in front of me. “Can I get you anything?”

I open my eyes to look at her and shake my head, barely. “Are you okay? Shall I call Isak to come home?” she asks.

I shake my head again. Don’t call Isak, please. I don’t want him to fail school because of me. Just leave me be. I’ll be fine if I can just lay here and don’t have to think or do anything. Just me in my little world that is Isak’s bed.

What about Isak’s bed?

Isak has a bed that’s not really a double bed, but it’s also too big to be a bed for only one person. Lying in it together means we’re constantly touching, which I like, truth be told. It’s warm. It’s comfortable, and most of all, it smells like Isak. I love his bed. I’m in love with Isak and with his bed, lol.

 

Hazy.

 

I’m floating.

 

Don’t want to wake up.

 

Someone’s patting my shoulder and a weight shifts the mattress. The next thing I feel are Isak’s arms around me as he scoops into the bed next to me. “Hi,” he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling. His lips trace over my earlobe and my jaw to my lips. He’s nibbling on my lower lip. “I missed you,” he says, “Had the most boring day in school.”

“Oh yeah? I had the most awesome day,” I whisper, surprised to find my voice after all the heaviness this day brought me. “I made love with your bed.”

“What?” he laughs.

One point for Even for making Isak laugh.

“No, sorry, I’m saying it wrong,” I explain, “I meant to say I’m in love with your bed. And with you. Equally divided, my love. Between you and your bed.”

Isak smiles widely while he brushes my hair from my forehead. “You were having a bad day?” he asks.

“A very heavy one,” I say. “Days like these I feel like lead is flowing through my veins instead of blood.”

“Lead, huh,” Isak says. “Not aluminum?”

I have to chuckle a little.

One point for Isak for making Even laugh.

“Aluminum isn’t heavy, like lead,” I say.

“True that. Hey, tell you what? I’m going to fix us something to eat, and maybe we could watch a movie or something before I start my boring homework.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I reply.

Can I tell you that I love how caring Isak is? Even if I don’t want to be taken care of.

After the movie I sleep again. Sleep is like healing now. Not the cousin of death after all.

* * *

Isak kisses me awake on Wednesday. “Ugh, when is this week over already?” he says. “Don’t want to go to school.”

“It’s so good that you’re going though,” I say. “You’re being such a good kid.”

“Don’t call me a good kid. That’s like an insult,” Isak says, but he smiles.

One point for Even for making Isak smile.

After he leaves I notice, for the first time this week, that I’m actually done sleeping. When I check my phone I see the battery died. Luckily Isak’s charger fits my phone so I can recharge it. There’s a missed call from my mom. Reluctantly I call her back. She answers at the first ring.

“Even, honey, how are you?” She doesn’t sound too worried, luckily, because I hate that.

“Okay. Been sleeping a lot,” I say.

“And have you been eating?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Isak’s making sure of it.”

“He is?” She sounds surprised. “I’d like to meet this boy.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” I say. “He’d probably be scared to death to meet you crazy peeps.”

She laughs a little.

One point for Even for making mom laugh.

“When are you coming home, though? I’ll cook you something if you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, if you do, let me know, okay? You know I love you, and I’d love to see you soon.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Halfway through the afternoon Linn enters the room. Seriously though, Isak’s convinced all his roommates to babysit me! It’s kind of funny, if it didn’t make me feel like I’m a burden.

She suggest we play some Fifa on Isak’s playstation. It’s kinda cool, he has a large screen on which we play. Barcelona against Juventus. She’s Barcelona because she likes Messi. So I’m Juventus and kicking her ass.

Linn is pretty competitive. She’s shouting at the screen while pressing the buttons on her controller with all her might. “No, no, no. That way! I was going to kick!” she yells while Messi’s running in the wrong direction.

“Pass it back to him, then,” I suggest.

“No, no, no!”

I laugh as she manages to lose the ball and I take over. “Do you want him to score, or what?” I ask.

She tries to take back the ball with Jordi Alba, but he slips. “No! No, no, no! Come on, you Spanish fucker!”

And I score!

“Hi!” Isak has suddenly materialized in the doorway.

“Hi!” I smile at him, a sudden burst of happiness surging through me at the sight of him.

Linn pauses the game. “Good, you’re home. I’m exhausted!”

“Sore loser?” I ask, teasing.

She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “I’m going to take a nap.” She gets up and walks out of the room. 

“Cool hanging out with you, Linn,” I call out after her.

Isak smiles as he enters the room and walks up to me.

“Hi!” I say again.

“Hi!” he replies as he bends over and kisses me. We fall backwards on the bed. I’m looking at him, in awe really, ‘cause he’s so beautiful.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

My cutie pie. He’s so cute, seriously though. “Did you… did you ask all your flatmates to take care of me?” I ask.

He wrinkles his forehead slightly. “Hm? No!”

I raise my eyebrows at him in question. He shrugs.

“Holy fuck, you’re such a bad liar!” I laugh.

“Huh?” Isak’s laughing, too. “I’m a bad liar?”

“Yeah!”

_ "I’m _ a bad liar?” His smile is audible in his voice. “I’m the fucking master of lies, there’s no one who’s a better liar than me! You have no idea what I’ve gotten away with!”

“Well, tell me. What have you gotten away with?”

“No!” he scrunches up his upper lip. “You don’t wanna know.”

I’m laughing. One point for Isak for making me laugh.

He reaches out to me, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “I like seeing you laugh.”

His phone buzzes and he looks down to see who it is.

“Fuck, Vilde…Hassling me so much about the stuff with Kose group.”

“Kose group! I had completely forgotten about it.”

“Well, don’t tell that to her, she’ll be pissed,” Isak says. “She’s terrified people just joined for the parties.”

“Uh, I was there to meet you,” I tell him, truthfully.

“What, seriously?” It’s so cute to see him surprised like this. Cutie pie.

“Yeah, did you think I was there to have fun?” I ask, raising my eyebrows, smiling at him.

“Had you seen me before that first…Kose meeting?”

I might as well spill it. “Yes. I saw you the first day of school.” 

He’s staring at me. Astounded. “Woah.”

Isak’s phone buzzes again, and this time he picks it up and talks to Vilde, who apparently wants him to buy a Christmas tree. He tells her to buy one herself.

“Christmas tree?” I ask, after he hangs up the phone.

“Yeah, actually I haven’t told you. Speaking about Kose group. I’ll be hosting a Christmas get-together here on Friday.”

“Here?” The thought scares me, frankly. A house full of people. People who probably know about me, too, about how I flipped out and… You know, I pride myself with not caring too much about what others think. Especially those whom I do not know. Who cares, right? But I do care, unfortunately. And I wish there was a way for them to unknow it.

“Mhm,” Isak hums in reply.

“Friday?” I ask.

“You wanna come?”

“I…” This is kind of hard. I don’t want to come and I don’t want to say no to Isak. Have to make something up. Some sort of excuse. “I’ve actually promised my mom that I─I talked to her today, and she really wanted me to stop by, to eat and stuff. Or I don’t really know. I was thinking maybe just to stay there for a while.”

Isak examines me closely and I feel it. That he gets me. Without having to spell it out for him. “Take it one day at a time,” he says.

He smiles and I smile back. Have to kiss him. Have to kiss that beautiful mouth. So I lean in and press my lips against his, enjoying the feel of him against me.

You know what? He’s not going to save me. And I remembered something else too. Angels aren’t supposed to save. God saves (don’t know if I believe any of that, but it’s how it works). Angels are just messengers. And it’s these messages that he gives to me, every single day, that give me strength. When I feel like I’ve lost faith he tells me not to doubt. When I don’t know if I’ll make it, he tells me to just believe it. When I’m close to giving up, he tells me to fight it.

You can do it. You are strong. And not alone. You can rise out of this.

He’s with me all the way.

And I am me. Bipolar, shining me. And I believe I can do this. Step one:  _ Finding yourself again. _

It is a tough task to acknowledge who I am, and this disorder I have is part of me. It makes me who I am. It makes it difficult, but it makes life beautiful, too. And in brokenness I do find beauty. And a realization that the world, with everything that’s wrong with it, is worth living in. And my life, with everything that’s wrong with it, is worth having. Step two:  _ Accept yourself. _

My life worth living. Despite all the things that’ve gone wrong. The people I hurt. Forgive myself for hurting Isak and scaring him. Forgive myself for lying to him and to my parents, too. Forgive myself for not taking medication. For thinking I could do without. For the mistakes I made. For Sonja. For Mikael. It’s beyond difficult to truly forgive, and to not loathe myself. Yet, the worst thing I did was hurting Isak. And he seems to be over it. He’s strong. Stronger than I thought he’d be. And if he can forgive me then I should, too. Step three: _ Forgive yourself. _

And then comes the hardest part.  _ Love yourself.  _ I guess it’s going to be a task I’d have to face every day, and it will never be completely finished. Yet I also know it’s important. Because only those who love themselves can love another. Because only those who love themselves can give themselves away, wholly and freely. And now, now that I’m here, with Isak, I feel he deserves it. I love him. And I want that to be better than this. He deserves more than I can give. But for his sake, and for my own, I’m going to work on it. Step four:  _ Love yourself. _

Yeah. Not that all my problems are instantly fixed. But we’ll take it one day at the time.

I’ll have to tell him though, this one extremely important thing to say. My hand is still on his cheek and I softly caress him. He needs more softness in his life.

“Isak, I love you.”

He doesn’t say anything back, but I see the light shining in his eyes as he props himself up on one elbow and hovers over me. Our lips meet as he rolls on top of me and kisses me senseless. Well, if this is his reply to saying ‘I love you,’ I’m going to say it a whole lot more, I’ll tell you. His lips are on me, he strokes with his tongue against mine and wakes a fire inside of me.

A fire that’s not extinguished, but very much alive, and burning through my veins. Gone is the lead from yesterday. My tiredness forgotten as I kiss him back with all my might. My mind and heart are singing, ‘I love you, God, I love you.’

His hands are on me now, pulling away my hoodie (it’s actually  _ his _ hoodie) and the t-shirt underneath. In one motion he takes off his own clothes as well and then his lips are on mine again as our bodies touch and the fire grows. His mouth travels down over my throat to my collarbone, he’s sucking hard, leaving a mark in my neck. Fuck, it’s hot.

He travels further down, his teeth grazing over my nipple, which elicits a moan out of me. Isak’s hands are on my sweatpants now (they’re actually Eskild’s) and he takes them off, removing his own as well and then he’s on top of me again. I feel him against me, I feel him everywhere. My hands roam over his back and his ass. I squeeze him, pulling him close, which creates a friction that speeds up both our breathing.

Isak thrusts against me and I close my legs to encase him. He shifts his body a little, props himself up on one elbow and then his fingers wrap around my dick. I suck in a breath as he starts to move them over my length. He thrusts slowly, his tip against my balls, his hand around me. We move, we fly, we dive. We belong.

I fucking love him. I love him as I come and he follows me. I look up at him to revel in his beauty. He has the most beautiful face when he comes. And I love the person who makes him look like that. For now I do, I really do.

He lies down on top of me, his head under my chin. I close my arms around him and hold him tight. And I hear him whisper against my collarbone. “I love you, too.”

We lie still. Satiated and content. Our bodies wrapped around each other. My body his, his body mine. I carry his heart and he carries mine.

After a while Isak lifts his head and looks at me. “Hungry?”

“You know what? I think I am. And I think I’d rather stay here and eat with you, instead of going home,” I say, while I brush my fingers through his hair. “If that’s okay?”

“It’s okay,” he says and then he gets up, throws me a towel and gets dressed. 

“What about cooking together?” he suggests.

What about cooking together?

Isn’t that the most domestic thing ever! I love it!

I put my clothes back on and sit on the bed to text my mom that I’m staying here tonight. Then I look up at Isak standing in front of me. He reaches out his hands and I place mine in them. Draw strength from his love.

Isak pulls me to my feet and I rise.


	14. Party

 

_ The future is dark. Not dark, like bad, but dark. You can’t see it. And maybe living is just bringing light to what you need in a day. Just seeing the day. _

 

\-      The OA, episode 7

* * *

I’m going home. That is, to my parents’ house. Which is still home. But Isak’s bed is home, too. And I kind of hate to leave it. But today is that party, that Christmas-gathering of the Kose group and I dread being there. I’m also in dire need of clean clothes, my own clothes. Been wearing Isak’s all week, which I don’t mind. But it’s not like he has a wardrobe for two people. How awesome would that be though, if I moved my clothes to his wardrobe and we’d have a wardrobe for two people. And then I can live with him forever.

The only way of having something forever…

No, no. Stop thinking like that. It’ll only wear me down, and I don’t want that. I feel like I’ve finally overcome this depression. Not entirely, but I’m going up. It’s a good way to go, but it’s always a little bit scary too, because am I going up or am I going manic? What’s the difference?

I mean, I know the difference, but it’s not predictable. That’s what makes it hard.

What about predictability?

Something is predictable when it’s cycling in a current of repetition. How do you like that for a line, huh? You could also say predictability is boring and people who are predictable are boring. At least I’m not boring. Looking at this from the bright side now.

On my way home I receive a text. Sonja.

 

****

I bite my lip as tears spring in my eyes. What the fuck? I don’t cry.

My phone buzzes again.

 

 

Oh my God.

I can’t believe Sonja would text something like this to me. That’s mighty big of her, considering the fact I cheated on her with him. I’m thinking of what to say to her, what to text back. It’s difficult. It’s painful. It’s hard to find the words.

Four years, and she’s been there for me. Throughout all of them. It’s over and I’m glad, honestly glad about that. But I can’t deny this hurts me.

When I enter my house I find my father in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette. “Hi, Even. Good to see you.”

I shake his hand and join him for a smoke.

“How was your week? Your mother and I missed you,” my dad says.

“It was… It was strange, really,” I’m trying to find the right words to express how I feel about this week. “It’s been hard, and it’s been wonderful. Isak…”

“Yeah, your mother told me about him. He’s making you eat, I hear,” my father laughs, knowing how big an accomplishment it is.

“He’s been great. I’m… I love him, dad,” I finally manage to say.

“That’s wonderful,” my father replies while slapping me on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” I stare down on the phone in my hand.

My father follows my gaze. “What’s wrong though?”

I show him Sonja’s text and tell him I don’t know what to say. “I feel so guilty.”

“I’m thinking she knows that,” my dad says. “She knows you, Even. Don’t overthink it. Just be you.” He’s walking over to the kitchen counter and pours coffee into two mugs. “You’ll be staying tonight?”

“I might go back to Isak’s. There’s a party,” I sigh. “I don’t know if I’m up for it.”

My father hands me a cup of coffee. “Just take it as it goes. If you’re up for it you go, if not, you’ll stay here.”

I nod, take a sip of the coffee and text Sonja back.

 

Send.

In my room I change my clothes and pack a bag. In case I’m going back tonight. My phone buzzes.

 

That’s it then. The end.

It makes me a little melancholic, but I’m relieved too. This is what they call closure, I guess.

My mom comes home a little after five and cooks dinner. I help her slice tomatoes while she asks me a thousand questions about Isak. How old is he? What about his parents? Where does he live? Who lives there with him? Fucking annoying.

“Stop interrogating me about Isak,” I say finally.

“But I want to meet him, Even. If you love him and he’s that important to you.”

“Fine, you know what? I’ll ask him if he wants to come visit you tomorrow, okay? But I can’t force him, if he doesn’t want to.” I put the tomatoes in a bowl.

“Why wouldn’t he want to?” my mother sounds utterly surprised.

“Because, mom, we’ve only been dating for a few weeks and I’m sure he has better things to do than meeting you.”

“Well, if he’s as nice as you say he is, I’m sure he wants to meet me,” she says, stubbornly.

After dinner I’m pacing my room. Should I stay or should I go? Am I ready to face the world again? It’ll be tiring, that’s for sure. A party so short after awakening. Then again, I could always hideaway in Isak’s bed when it gets too much. And I really, really prefer his bed over mine. I seriously think I can’t sleep in my own bed anymore. Need to be with Isak.

I’ve decided that that’s okay. It’s not manic to want to be, to need to be with the person you’re in love with. Everyone wants that. Romeo and Juliet fucking offed themselves to be with the one they loved. And no one blamed them for being crazy. Everyone thinks it’s an amazing love story.

But you know, I realized something this past week. Well, I’ve realized a lot of things. But what I’ve come to know is that a real life love story, with all its ups and downs, is much, much better than a fake one. An invented one. Life trumps fantasy, every time. Life is loss, but it’s beautiful, too.

What about beauty?

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But I’m not sure if I agree with that. As if beauty is a purely subjective thing. That’s not true. There’s objective beauty too. Like the beauty of the blue sky and the ever changing clouds. The perfect notes of a perfect music piece. The taste of strawberries. And Isak’s green eyes. (Okay maybe that last one is subjective. No! I refuse to believe that. Everyone who’s seen his eyes has to agree with me.) 

The thing with beauty is that it’s everywhere. And it makes life just that little bit better.

I should go. I want to. Because, you know what? It’ll make Isak happy if I come. Strangely enough, he chose to love me and he wants me there. There with his friends, as part of his life. A substantial part of his life. We’ve gone from minute by minute to hour by hour to day by day. And today I’m going to do something for him. I’m going.

My backpack is filled with clothes, and I kiss my parents goodbye, promising my mother one more time that I’ll ask him and let her know. And then I go.

Through the night, to my love. I’m thinking about how the night was this time last week. How hopeless I felt then, how lost and lonely. How can things change so much in one week? It’s quite impressive. I feel good today and am happy to see Isak again. Last I saw him was this morning when we woke, and I told him I was going to see my parents. It already feels as too long ago.

It’s crowded inside Isak’s apartment. All the people from Kose group are there, and then some more. I don’t see Emma, though. I suppose she ditched us after Isak ditched her. Isak himself is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi Even!” Eskild greets me enthusiastically. “I missed you today! I was getting used to seeing you in my sweatpants every day.”

“Yeah you know, I had to throw them out,” I say, “After living in them for a week, they couldn’t be saved anymore. I threw them a funeral, though.”

Eskild laughs and shakes his head. “Very funny.”

“It’s true! I held a eulogy and everything!” I stand up straight and clear my throat. “‘Eskild’s sweatpants were the light of my life. It’s hard to explain the amount of joy they brought me, and now that they’re gone-’”

Eskild punches my shoulder and tells me to shut up. I confess that the pants are in my laundry basket at home and I’ll bring them back as soon as they’re clean. “Or, if you can’t wait that long, I’ll buy you a new pair tomorrow.”

“No, no, no, it’s all good!”

I look around in the room. “Where’s Isak though?”

“In the kitchen with his friends.”

“Okay, thanks. Great seeing you, man!”

I walk to the kitchen where I hear the boy squad talking. I see Magnus pointing at his sweater—an awful red Christmas sweater—as I enter. “This sweater’s a bit…I bought it a size too big.”

Isak looks up upon me entering, smiling at me. I wonder if he has an extra sense, too, for knowing I’m there. That would be so awesome. If we had like a sixth sense. An Evak sense. Cool.

Mahdi is the one to greet me. “Hey!”

“Hey,” I smile, “What’s up?”

Isak looks me in the eyes, I love it when he does that. Those eyes, I’ll never grow tired of them. “We’re helping Magnus bang Vilde,” he says and he nods adorably.

“I see. How’s that going?”

The boys discuss Magnus’s lack of moves, and his overload of desperation. He’s telling us it’s fucking impossible not to be desperate. And I get that, I totally do.

“You know what, Magnus?” I say. “I think you should go for it and just be more yourself. Take desperate to a whole new level.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, this guy is onto something.” Mahdi agrees.

“What do you mean?” Isak asks.

If only he knew, I think, how desperate I was. I wonder if he’d run away.

“Well, show her how desperate you really are!” I tell Magnus.

“Go all out!” says Mahdi.

Magnus looks at me and nods. “Desperate to a whole new level? Fuck, I’m doing it.” He takes off instantly, “Bye!”

Jonas and Mahdi walk after him, leaving me alone with Isak. Which I don’t mind.

“Hey,” I say, as I move over to him.

“Hey,” Isak reaches out for me, an arm around my waist, and I give him a kiss. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” I decide to jump right in, and get it over with. “I just spoke to my mom, and the reason she’s nagging me is because she really wants to meet you.”

“Oh...” Isak sounds surprised.

“So…how do you feel about stopping by there tomorrow?” I feel a bit nervous. Isn’t this like, way too early? I’m afraid he’ll say no and I’ll have to explain that to my mom. I’m kind of angry with her for putting me in the spot like this.

But to my surprise Isak agrees to go.

“You don’t think it’s awkward?” I ask.

“No, I don’t find anything awkward anymore,” he says.

“Okay,” I smile and take out my phone to text my mom.

**_  
_ **

 

Isak looks at me. “As long as you’re smiling and…”

“I can do that!”

“...wear clothes.” I look up at him and smile, raising my eyebrows. He smiles back, it brings out those cute little curves in his cheeks. “Then life is chill.”

“I promise I’ll be wearing clothes,” I tell him. And it means more than just wearing clothes, this promise. It’s a promise that I’ll be there for him. That this is not a one sided relationship, where he takes care of me. I can be for him what he needs. Someone who wears clothes, yes, someone who he can rely upon.

He looks at me, so beautiful he is. He’s wearing a gray dress shirt and black pants, looking incredibly smart in them. God, he’s gorgeous. I lean in and kiss him softly on the lips. He kisses me back. He tastes like beer and Christmas cookies. We nuzzle our noses together, it’s like our trademark. An Evak trademark. Cool.

Now we have a trademark and an extra sense. We’re the cutest couple of the entire city, nay, country. Nay. World. Oh, and don’t forget we have a spice, too: cardamomme!

I intend to kiss him again when we get interrupted by Sana. I find out she’s in Isak’s biology class and they seem to have bonded over the past weeks. I don’t recall him interacting with her in former Kose meetings. But now they’re friends and she comes bearing gifts. She hands him a small package, wrapped in purple wrapping paper. Isak unpacks it and shows me the content. A small plastic bag of weed. Weed?!?

“What a cool biology partner!” I say as I take it from Isak and examine it. As Sana leaves the kitchen Isak snatches the bag out of my hands.

“You’re not getting any of it,” he says, while pointing a finger at me. “It’s not good for you.”

I look at him, giving him the best puppy eyes I’ve got. He looks very stern, and I have to punch his shoulder. “It’s not good for you either.”

“For me it’s completely fine, but not for you,” he says. It’s strange, because if Sonja had said this to me it would’ve come off as totally annoying parental behaviour, but somehow it doesn’t come off like that now. Maybe it’s the way he says it, I can’t put my finger on it, but he makes me feel… valuable.

Have to tease him with it, though. “Are you gonna be the one who tells me what’s good for me and what not?”

“Of course I am,” Isak says. “It’s my job.”

**“** Oh, you got a job?

“Yeah, it’s literally my job. That’s why I’m doing this, you know? I found a poster on Løkka that said ‘Even Bech Næsheim is in need of a support person/boyfriend.’”

I laugh out loud now. A poster on Løkka! I’m totally picturing it! “And then you applied?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I thought ‘Holy fuck, he’s hot.’”

Our lips meet as I lean in to kiss him. His hands reach up and pull me close as he kisses me with an enthusiasm that’s infectious. He’s the one who’s hot.

“That was nice of you,” I say as we break off the kiss and brush with my thumb over his cheek and through his hair. “You’re so nice.”

“Yeah. I could’ve done it for free. But it’s nice getting-”

My hand rests in his neck. “You’re getting paid?!

Isak copies my movement, stroking with his fingers through my hair. “Yeah, your mother pays me 500 a week.”

“Whaat!” I push him away in mock astonishment.

“No wonder that she wants─”

“Are you kidding me?” I interrupt him.

His voice is filled with mirth as he continues what he was saying, “No wonder that she wants to ‘meet’ me!”

He makes me giddy because he’s breathing happiness right now. “Holy fuck! I’m having some of that money.”

“No.” He’s breathing happiness. Emanating it.

“Yes!” I say.

“It’s my money. You’re not getting any of it,” he says, gleefully.

Have to kiss him. This is how happiness tastes today. Beer and Christmas cookies. And it tastes damn good.

“Yes! Come on!” I say against his lips.

“No!” He seizes me in my neck and pulls me close.

“Come on!” I try again, laughing.

But he’s persistent, that’s my Isak. “No!”

His lips meet mine again and he parts them, entering my mouth with his tongue. He’s giving me flutters. He’s giving me joy, like a perfect Christmas gift. Have to buy him something amazing for Christmas.

What about Christmas?

I remember angels playing a big part in the Christmas story. They’re the announcers of the glad tidings to come. Tidings of comfort and joy. I’m thinking those tidings finally showed up today.

My angel brought them to me.

We do break off the kiss, eventually, unfortunately, and head back to the living room where we mingle. Won’t be one of those couples who are constantly glued together, those couples are annoying. Isak goes to sit at the table and talk with Eva, while Eskild approaches me.

It’s only now that I notice he’s wearing glittery spandex leggings with a mistletoe tied to his ass. “You know, mistletoes are supposed to hang on doorposts,” I comment.

“Yeah!” Eskild exclaims enthusiastically, “Let’s hang it there and make people kiss. Noora needs to get some.”

I laugh at that. We walk to the door and Eskild attaches the mistletoe to a rope and hangs it from the doorpost.

“Does it work, like this?” he asks. “Is it staying up?”

“It seems to be,” I say as I regard the mistletoe. “Beautiful.”

I glance over at Isak who’s still talking to Eva. He catches my eye and I nod my head toward the mistletoe. Come kiss me, I dare you.

He smiles his wonderful smile, says something to Eva and then he gets up and walks over.

I pull him with me under the mistletoe, and kiss him for the zillionth time.        


Vilde insists on taking a group photo. I’m standing behind Isak, my arms around him, and I feel him leaning back against me. Relying on me to hold him. I can do that. 

The party comes to an end soon after that. It’s a good thing, ‘cause all the people and the noise were quite tiring. In the end it’s only Noora and Linn, and Isak and me left. Eskild went out to pick up some guy he met on Grindr. Noora and Linn clean up the living room while Isak and I wash up in the kitchen.

“Did you have fun?” Isak asks.

“Yeah, I did,” I reply, while handing him a clean glass to put away in the kitchen cabinet. “Did Magnus and Vilde manage to hook up?”

Isak laughs, “I think so.”

It’s quiet for a while, but not in a bad way. Silence doesn’t always need to be filled. There’s something I want to say though.

“Sonja texted me today,” I begin. “She said she wishes us luck. You’ve been texting with her?”

“Yeah,” Isak looks up from the dishes and regards me. “I’ve… asked her for advice. Like, when I applied on that poster, they said there would be a guide. Like those you get when you buy a new phone or something. Your mother was supposed to send it to me. But she hadn’t done it yet, so I called Sonja.”

“Good thinking,” I say, smiling.

“She wishes us happy holidays,” Isak adds.

Cutie pie, Isak. I reach for him and pull him into a hug. His arms slide around me and the next thing I know are his lips on my neck, as he brushes them over my skin. He makes me want to leave those dishes behind and continue this in the bedroom.

“Can we do the rest of these tomorrow?” I ask in his hair.

“Sure,” his reply comes as a mumble, muffled against my neck. But then he takes a step back, smiling a cute lopsided grin as he takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom.

He gets me. I love that. I love him and I love making love to him. His body so warm against mine. His lips so soft on my skin. His touch makes my blood turn into fire as it courses through my veins, fast as the speed of light. His heart beating the rhythm of my life.                     


The year is coming to an end. I don’t know what will happen in 2017. The future is dark, not in a bad way, but in a way that it’s invisible. But that’s fine. I have my angel, giving me enough light to see today.

By far more lucent than it was before.

 


	15. Epilogue: Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue is set during the first episode of season 4, where Isak and Even move in together.  
> I've written a second epilogue (I know, it's weird) which is more like a one shot, set in the future, which I will add to this story, even though it's a stand alone.  
> So, one more chapter left after this one. Thank you all for your support and comments throughout this story. That meant a lot to me!  
> Trigger warning: there's some smutty content.  
> BTW, someone asked me about the smut and why Evak didn't go all the way in the hotel scene. I want to say something about that: idk if they did, probably yes, and if you think they did, that's totally fine. I have no problems with it whatsoever, which will show in my last chapter. However, research showed not a lot of teenagers go all the way with anal sex. And I wanted to write a story that had sex in it, but not all the way, to show that that's okay too.

**April 10, 2017**

We’re moving in together, today. Isak and I. Can you believe it? Four months later, and we’re moving in. I’m crazy happy. I’ll tell you how it happened.

First this. The Saturday after the Christmas party Isak and I went to have coffee with my parents. He was nervous, which was cute. And yeah, I was nervous too. For the first time in four years I was bringing someone else home. A boy no less. My parents were really laid-back about it. Didn’t I tell you they’re awsm?

“So, you must be Isak?” My mom asked. I think it must be number one in the top 100 most stupid questions to ask.

“Yes,” Isak replied as they shook hands.

“Tell me, Isak, how do you do it?” my dad asked, slapping his shoulder. Isak looked all confused.

“Do what?”

“Date this crazy son of mine, make him eat and everything. It’s so impressive.” My dad said it in such a relaxed and sort of mocking voice, it made Isak laugh.

“I trick and manipulate,” Isak said, which in turn made my father laugh. It was one giddy day.

We stayed for dinner, too. Isak’s easy going, you wouldn’t believe. Complimenting my mother on the food. Helping with cleaning up the dinner table. Listening to my father ramble on about music. My parents loved him and they actually started joking about him moving in. How he would be such a great addition to the household and stuff like that. Tss, like I would want to live with Isak and my parents together in one house. Come hell or high water, I’d never do that.

But a seed was planted.

Over the months there came more and more tension in the apartment. Noora lived in the living room, I practically lived with Isak in his room. A three person apartment grew into a five person apartment, without it getting any bigger. Eskild called Isak lazy and dirty, for not cleaning enough. And it wasn’t like I was such a good asset. I didn’t really feel compelled to clean another person’s house, even if I were practically living there.

Isak and I were doing well, we’re doing really well. More and more in love with each day passing. But the tension in the flat reached a breaking point. And one day I had a fight with Eskild over a big mess I made in the kitchen. After that I had no choice but to go home, to my parents, and sleep there for a few nights. I couldn’t sleep, though. I was so used to being with Isak, that I couldn’t sleep without him. After two nights I called him. I think it was about one in the morning, but he answered after the first ring.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I replied.

“Why are you calling at one in the morning if nothing’s wrong?” he asked.

“Okay. I miss you. I can’t sleep,” I admitted.

I could hear his smile through the phone line. “Want me to come and stay with you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, not really caring if that was pathetic or not. And he came.

Because he’s sweet and he’s awesome!

He came and stayed with me for a few nights until Eskild called me and asked if Isak was ever coming back, and no of course he wasn’t angry with me anymore, and yes he missed us, and were we coming over for pizza night, or what?

My father came up with the idea of getting my own place, after I told him about the incident.

“What do you mean, my own place?” I asked.

“I mean, you and Isak, get your own place,” he said, “Wouldn’t that solve everything?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit soon for us to be moving in together?”

“Why? You’re twenty now, it’s high time you started living on your own. And who better to live with than Isak?”

“Well, if you put it that way.”

I was very nervous when I asked Isak, but he was actually pretty enthusiastic about the idea. “You don’t think it’s weird? Or too soon?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. I think it’ll be great,” he smiled that fantastic beautiful smile of his and kissed me. I knew everything would be alright, then.

So we searched for apartments and found one. A nice, studio apartment in the outskirts of Oslo, it’s a pretty long ride to school, but it’s relatively close to my parents. And it’s absolutely perfect. It’s crazy expensive too, but we rent it second hand. And my parents were willing to guarantee for us, they paid the first six months of rent ahead.

The studio has one large room which will serve as both the bedroom and the living room, which is fine. There’s a separate kitchen, a bathroom, and a balcony. It has everything we need.

This weekend Isak and I have been preparing for the move. His boy squad helped out, very nice. We bought a bed, big enough for two people, at Ikea. We bought a wardrobe, a table and some chairs and a small couch. And today we’re moving Isak’s stuff out of his old apartment. And Noora has her old room back. Order is restored in the world again.

Isak packs his orange cloth that had pretended to be curtain for so long. Now, finally, it’s pretending days are over. We bought curtains, and the cloth can go back to being a cloth. Maybe serve as a throw blanket over our Ikea couch.

Most of Isak’s furniture, including the bed, stays in the old apartment. It’s only the books, the clothes, the junk that have to come with. Magnus has arranged a small van, still too big to store all Isak’s stuff.

With the boy squad, Noora, Eva and Vilde helping, we have everything packed in no time.

Isak and I are standing behind the open van while the boys head into the house for the last time, to grab the final few items.

“We should go to the grocery store for dinner,” I say as I go sit down against the boxes in the back of the van.

“And something to drink. What shall we drink?” Isak goes to stand between my legs and drapes his arms around my neck.

“I was thinking sparkling wine,” I say, looking up at him.

“Sparkling wine?” He smiles. “No, we must have beer. Beer!”

“But that’s what you drink when you’re celebrating something,” I reply, laughing.

Isak kisses me. I will never get enough of him kissing me.

Over his shoulder I see Sana approaching. “Oh, now you’re here!”

“Am I late?” she asks, regarding the packed van behind us.

Isak turns and sits on my lap, I wrap an arm around him to steady him. “We’ve finished,” he tells her.

“No… Sorry, I took a tram that went the wrong way.”

Mahdi comes with some of Isak’s last things and he laughs. “I heard that one before.”

“What?” asks Magnus, behind him.

Isak regards Mahdi, smiling. “‘Went the wrong way.’ Isn’t that what you do?”

Mahdi laughs, “Yes, that’s what I do when I don’t want to hang out with you.”

Isak shakes his head and turns to Sana. “But then you can come with Even and me and help us unpack.”

Sana frowns. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but I’m very busy with the girls.”

“There you go,” Isak points to the entrance of the flat and Sana takes off.

“Uh, Sana!” Magnus yells after her. “Can you tell Vilde that I miss her?”

Sana looks over her shoulder. Wow! If looks could kill. That smile she gives him!

“Can you do that?” Magnus tries again, but she’s already gone.

We all look at Magnus, reproachfully. He instantly goes through lengths to explain. “It’s just that, when you say you miss someone they go like ‘awww.’”

We all laugh at that. It must be the most stupid thing ever. Isak copies Magnus’ awww in the cutest way.

“Only with girls, though,” I tell Magnus.

“You two are cute together,” Isak says.

Magnus looks sour so I grab his shoulder to reassure him. “Yeah.”

“Cuter than you two,” he says.

“Ooooh you wish! You wish!” I exclaim at the same time as Isak says, “No one’s cuter than us!”

I pull him back with me, my other arm around him, and pepper his face with kisses.

“They said it at the same time!” Magnus exclaims.

“Goes to show how right we are,” Isak says as he takes a hold of my arms, turns his head and kisses me.

I will never get enough of that. Of Isak kissing me. Am I annoying already? Saying the same thing over and over again. I don’t care.

We get into the van. I’m the only one with a driver's license, so I drive. Isak and Magnus sitting in the two seats next to me. The other boys, Jonas and Mahdi, are taking the tram.

Once we’re there, everyone helps unloading the van. I go to the supermarket around the corner to get some beer and food for the guys. The five of us eat and drink beer. Then the boys take off, and Isak and I are alone in our new home.

Our new home!

Isak is closing the door behind the boys and walks over to the couch, plops down on it next to me, and I draw him close. He rests his head against my shoulder, and I nuzzle my nose in his hair.

“Can you believe this is our home now?” I say against his hair.

“Actually, I can. It says so on the name tag downstairs,” Isak replies.

“You’re so gullible, though,” I say. “How do you even know that name tag is speaking the truth?”

“Because I ordered it myself at the name tag company,” Isak replies, which makes me laugh.

“Name tag company, really?”

“Well, is it any less believable than aluminum technology? I’m sure it exists.” He lifts his head from my shoulder and looks at me, “But I got the name tag from the owner. He asked me what names to put on. I wanted to say God and Julius Caesar, but I was afraid if I did that he’d never take me serious again.”

“Oh, who cares?” I laugh.

“I think it would be nice if he takes at least one of us serious,” Isak shoots back, but he’s laughing too. He sits up and regards the unpacked boxes.

“I think we should do some more unpacking,” he says.

“No,” I disagree, as I grab his arm and pull him on top of me, his legs on either side of me. My hands travel over them, and then I reach up and cup his face as we kiss. “We have to make out, like a ritual, christening the apartment,” I say through the kiss.

Isak laughs against my lips. “Christening the apartment!”

His lips leave mine, trailing over my jaw to my ear. “We need to unpack,” he whispers, sending shivers down my spine.

“Okay,” I say, my voice sounding all low and urgent. “We’ll unpack.”

His lips leave my ear, travel down over my neck. I close my eyes, my hands reaching around him, sliding under his shirt, mapping his back.

And then he’s gone. Jumped off my lap and heading toward the boxes piled up in the corner. “These ones first?” he asks, eyebrows raised, looking all innocent, as if he didn’t just make me crazy and left me unsatisfied. I’m not going to accept this.

“No!” I say and get up from the couch, trying to pull him back into my arms. But he dodges me and actually runs out of the living room.

“Have to unpack first, otherwise nothing ever gets done around here,” he shouts from the hallway.

I come after him and see he’s gone into the kitchen. When I enter he’s standing at the other end of the kitchen. I raise my eyebrows at him. “No, we need to do the christening first.”

He’s laughing, a sound like raindrops in the spring, the sound of life. I leap over a few boxes, grab him around his waist and we stumble to the ground together. He’s on top of me now, looking at me with sparkling eyes as he shakes his head. “I love you,” he says before he brings his lips down on mine.

Our lips part and our tongues meet. I lose myself in him again, my hands sliding once more under his shirt, taking it off, tracing patterns on his back, pulling him closer. The floor beneath me is hard and unyielding. I break off the kiss, breathing heavily when I ask, “Does the christening need to be done on the floor or can we do it on the bed?”

He nuzzles his nose against mine and trails with his fingers through my hair, smiling down on me. “I think the bed would be fine, too. But what do I know? I know nothing about christening. You were the one who insisted on doing it.”

“Okay, okay,” I say. “We won’t do it, then. Let’s unpack.”

Isak burst out laughing. Then he scrambles off of me and reaches a hand to pull me up. “To the bed,” he orders and pulls me with him out of the kitchen and back to the living/bedroom.

The bed is actually made, because I did that this morning. Before packing at Isak’s I bought new pillow cases and a duvet. Striped with blue and gray, like the one Isak had. I like the continuity.

We end up lying on top of it now, Isak’s pulling off my hoodie and the t-shirt underneath. He pushes me on my back and crawls on top of me again. I love it when he does that. And, God, his lips on me. On my neck now, trailing down to my collarbone. Peppering me with soft, wet kisses. His touch is electrifying. Never enough of that. I love him. My angel.

He’s going down now. Over my chest, my abdomen, to the waistband of my jeans. He sits up and opens my fly, pushing down the jeans and the boxers with them. “Time for christening,” he says, as he undresses himself as well.

I pull him up and against me, our bodies flush, heated. We move together, like a dance, an intricate choreography. Isak rolls us over, so I’m on top of him now. His hands on my hips, he guides me, as I’m thrusting against him. He spreads his legs a little and shifts me down. I’m moving so that my dick slides between his butt cheeks and I start to thrust again. It feels so damn good.

Can hardly believe we’re actually doing this in our new home, in our new bed. And we can do this every day from now on. Love each other like this every day.

My hand moves between us, I wrap my fingers around him and start rubbing him. He’s moaning softly, hands on my hips, encouraging me to move faster. I’m moving faster, but not too fast. We can take our time with this. There’s no hurry.

I love it when there’s no hurry.

This is our life now.

What about life?

I will tell you one thing about life: It’s worth living.

We move, I thrust, I stroke. Isak presses his body into the contact, wanting to be closer. Closer to me. My dick’s sliding between his butt cheeks, it’s making me tremble. We go a little faster now, I’m starting to slowly lose it as the coiling in my belly tightens. Isak moans, his hand leaves my thigh and holds my neck, pulling me against him, our mouths collide. His tongue darting out and twirling around mine. We’re going up together. Higher.

Higher.

My moves become more and more uncoordinated. Isak whispers my name against my mouth. It’s the best sound to come from his lips. I break off the kiss and try to focus on making him come before I do, because when I come I won’t be able to control it anymore. My hand moves over his length with more purpose now, and more pressure. He moans, “Even…”

When he comes I marvel at his beauty. His exquisite, extraordinary beauty. With one more thrust I follow him. Through the sky like two shooting stars. Flying higher. Coming together.

Coming home.

Come hell or high water…

I’m home. We’re home.

THE END


	16. 2021-02-21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second epilogue and really the last addition to this fanfic. Thanks for your support and for reading this. This chapter contains explicit smuttiness. 
> 
> Alt Er Love

“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength.”

\- August Wilson

* * *

 

It’s been a cold winter. Yet today I don’t feel the cold. That’s because I’m ecstatic, really. Two days ago, on my 24th birthday, Isak gave me a new camera. A new camera which I can use today, on this really important day.

I’ll tell you why this day is important. It’s the 21:21 day, today. A day for new directions.

Isak and I have been living in our flat since we moved there in April 2017, so it’s been almost four years. Miraculously enough I managed to graduate in 2017, and I started studying Media Studies at the Oslo University in the fall. It went really well and I’m graduating this summer. At the moment I’m working on my final project: a short movie. It’s my own story, my own filming and my own editing. It’s all me and it’s amazing. It tells an epic love story set here in this city. There’s some real life action in it as well.

Today is a shooting day. It’s Sunday and tomorrow Isak has a day off so he can come and join me on the set this evening.

Isak studies at the university of Oslo too. He graduated a year after me, and he is now working on his Bachelor’s degree in Biology, next year he’ll start his Master’s. He’s doing so well, too. I’m extremely proud of him. And really glad that he’s coming today, to my set. Well, it’s not really a set, because we’re filming outside, in the cold and the snow.

We’re walking together from the subway to the set. I’m bringing my new camera, obviously. Both of us are dressed in warm winter coats, scarves and hats. The streets are white with fresh fallen snow. It’s Sunday evening, around 20:30 when we walk over Grønland toward the park.

“You’ve been too good to me, buying me such an expensive gift,” I tell Isak.

He shrugs and smiles his beautiful smile. “I don’t think so, I think you deserve it.”

“You do?” I smile back, raising my eyebrows at him. “You actually think I deserve it?”

“Yes,” he says as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close. “Now tell me, what will you be shooting today?”

“This really important scene,” I explain. “It’s pivotal, really. The two main characters have this conversation where they finally tell each other how they feel. They’re sort of coming clean to each other.”

“They declare their love, something like that?” Isak asks.

“Yeah, sort of.” I say. “We’re almost there.”

We stand still for a second on the bridge at Grønland. “We’re going to the park,” I say and lead Isak down the steps to the Vaterlandsparken. At the waterside there’s this very nice place. It’s right behind the Radisson Plaza Hotel, but it’s really quiet and peaceful here. You don’t feel the wind or the cold. And even though it’s February, and the trees are all empty of leaves, it’s still pretty. Especially with the snow coating everything in pristine white. It’s the perfect spot.

The actors, Marie and Sven, are already there when we arrive, and so is my sound guy, Klaus. All we have to do now is wait for Lina, who’s doing the lighting. My awesome team. Without them I never could’ve done this project.

And today’s twist! They’re all in on it. All, except Isak, of course. He doesn’t know. He’s just here to watch and offer me some moral support.

Marie and Sven go to stand next to the canal and practice their lines when Lina finally shows up. “Sorry I’m late, but I brought coffee!”

She hands us all steaming styrofoam cups with coffee. “It’s bloody cold, today, isn’t it?” Lina says to Isak. He nods in agreement. While we sip our coffees she goes to work to set up the two big lamps that enlighten the spot where Marie and Sven are standing. The light makes everything glow, the crystals in the snowflakes are sparkling. It looks like a fairytale.

“Okay, okay,” I yell, “Everyone ready? I want to shoot this scene. Get it over with, if you’re all so cold, you pussies.”

Everyone goes to stand in position. I place the camera on the tripod, adjust the settings. “Lina, you need to angle that lamp a little more to the left, okay? Yes, like that.”

Lina adjusts the lamp as I regard the actors. “Marie, Sven, ready?”

They both nod. “Okay then, here we go.” I press record and stand up, drawing Isak to my side.

“Let’s hope they do well,” I whisper in his ear.

Marie wraps her arms around Sven and starts reciting her lines. “You are my world, my love. Don’t you see that?”

I’m not feeling it, it sounds cheesy instead of romantic. It’s not sparkling enough. After two lines I interrupt her, saying she needs to start over.

The second time around isn’t much better. “No, no, no,” I say, “I’m not feeling it. You love each other! Show me that!”

After the third time of yelling cut, I turn to Isak. “You come and do it with me. Show them how it’s done.”

Isak smiles a little and shakes his head. “I can’t act.”

“You don’t need to act, you love me right?”

“Of course I do.”

“There you go!” I check my watch, it’s 21:18, I have three minutes left.

I take him with me as we switch places with Sven and Marie. “Look closely, this is how it’s done,” I tell them as they go to stand next to the camera. Sven gives me a wink and presses the record button.

Here we go!

This is it, people. The most important moment of my life.

Isak looks at me a bit hesitant. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing, just listen,” I say as I take his hands in mine.

Here we go.

“Isak,” I look into his beautiful green eyes. He looks a bit surprised, not sure what to expect. I squeeze his hands as I continue, “I love you. I’ve loved you for so long now, and I love you more each day. Do you remember how we met at Hartvig Nissen? How we went to that stupid Kose group to meet each other?” I smile and he smiles back at me, nodding his head.

“How we kissed in my ‘aunt’s’ pool at 21:21? How we spent that awful night here in the Radisson? A night that was both awful and beautiful, like life is?” Isak nods again at my words.

“And now, today, it’s the twenty-first of February in the year 2021. 21:21, our angel number. It’s time for a new direction.” I take a look at my watch. It’s 21:21!

There I go. Down on one knee. From my jacket pocket I take the black velvet box, a golden ring in it. I look up into his eyes. They’re widened in surprise and understanding.

And I ask the magic question. “Isak Valtersen, there’s no one I love, have ever loved or will love as much as I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And so I ask you now, at 21:21 on this day: will you marry me?”

He’s looking down on me, his eyes still wide. But I see his astonishment vanishing and in its place appears a radiant smile. “Yes,” he says, “Yes, I will.”

#JUMPFORJOY

He said yes!

I take the ring out of the box and place it on his left ring finger. Then he pulls me up and wraps his arms around me. Our noses nuzzle against each other, freezing cold in the winter air. I hear the sound of the applause from our spectators as Isak presses his lips against mine.

“I love you,” he whispers against my mouth. “I love you so much.”

My arms slide around him and we kiss, we kiss this wonderful kiss. Our first kiss as fiancés. The camera still rolling, taping everything. I told you I was filming an epic love story. I told you there was going to be some life action in it! :)

I’m so happy.

When we break off the kiss, Isak cups my face in his hands, his eyes shining as he looks in mine. “You set this whole thing up to propose?”

“Of course I did,” I reply, smiling, raising my eyebrows at him. “You know me.”

“But what about your movie?” he asks.

“This is part of it,” I explain, “This is part of the movie. You remember I told you I was going to make a movie about you.”

“But you’re not going to make the whole movie about me, are you?” He’s suddenly self conscious again, my adorable dork.

“Of course I am! It’s called ‘the boy who couldn’t hold his breath under water,’” I laugh now.

“That sounds like a pompous, shit movie,” Isak replies, and then his lips are on mine again. “You’re so nice,” he whispers.

“You’re the one who’s being nice. What if you’d have said no! That would’ve been disastrous!”

“I would’ve never said no. I love you. I can’t believe this happened though, I really didn’t expect it,” he looks down at the ring on his finger. “It’s really beautiful. But I want you to have one too.”

He looks up and brushes his hand over my cheek. “You deserve one too.”

“I can order a second one, exactly the same,” I suggest.

“That would work. But I’m paying for it,” Isak says as he softly nuzzles his nose against mine. “So you let all of them come here in the cold, in the middle of the night, just so you could propose at 21:21?”

“Of course!” I beam at him now, so happy that my plan worked and he said yes. He said YES!

“And now what?” Isak asks.

“Now they’re all going home while we go to the Radisson to celebrate that you said yes. But don’t worry, I booked a reasonably priced room this time. No excesses.”

“And you’ll keep your clothes on?” Isak teases.

“I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head.

“Good!”

I let go of him then and turn to my team. “He said YES!” I scream and they all start applauding again.

“So, tomorrow we take the day off. But I’ll see you all back here on Tuesday, okay?”

Lina’s already busy taking down the lights. Klaus, too, is wrapping cables into cases. Sven and Marie come over to congratulate us. Soon, all four of them leave and it’s just Isak and me, standing in the snow.

“Let’s go, it’s freaking cold here,” Isak says.

He takes my hand and we walk to the Radisson. Inside we go to the desk. A young blonde woman sits behind it.

“Hi, I booked a room under Even Valtersen,” I tell her.

Isak gasps next to me. “What???”

I turn and smile widely at him, “I thought it was a good idea.”

“But your ID still says Bech Nӕsheim,” Isak points out.

“Yeah, I know. But I looked into it and it turns out you can book a room on a fake last name. And I gave my real last name just in case.”

Isak burst out laughing. “That doesn’t make any sense, Even. God, you’re crazy!”

“And you agreed to marry me. So what does that make you, huh?”

“That makes me engaged to a crazy person,” Isak replies, which makes me laugh.

The woman has checked my reservation in the meantime and hands me a card. “It’s on the eighteenth floor, _Mr. Valtersen_." She looks up to me and smiles a meaningful smile. I give her a wink, enjoying the fact that she plays along. "You can take the elevator on your left. Enjoy your stay here!”

“Thank you very much,” I take the card and smile triumphantly at Isak. “Here you go, Mr. Valtersen!”

We take the elevator. Isak wraps his arms around my neck, our cheeks pressed together as we look out of the windows over Oslo. “I’m not sure of it, though,” he says. “I really like your last name.”

“You’d rather you have my last name instead of me taking yours?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I honestly never thought about it,” Isak said.

“How is that possible? I told you that first night we were here that we’ll be getting married. And you’ve never thought about it?” I feign disappointment.

“I thought about marrying you and staying with you forever. But I never thought about our last name,” Isak confesses as the elevator opens on the eighteenth floor.

“We could always hyphenate. Although it would make for a long last name; ‘Valtersen-Bech Nӕsheim,” I suggest.

Together we walk through the hall to the right door. Room number 1823.

“But if we do that, everyone will only call us by the first one, which is still Valtersen in this case.” Isak seems unhappy with this option.

“But Bech Nӕsheim Valtersen sounds like shit,” I say.

“I like it. Doesn’t sound like shit to me.”

We enter the room now. It’s not as grand as the one we had four years ago, but it’s still beautiful. The view is lovely, we can see the Oslofjord from here. Thousands of lights glimmer in the night. It has a magical feel to it, this twenty-first of February.

I stand next to the window to take it all in as Isak comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me. He rests his chin on my shoulder. “It’s beautiful here,” he says.

I turn around in the circle of his arms and brush my fingers through his soft, blond curls. “Not as beautiful as you.”

He smiles, the curves in his cheeks standing out so profoundly. His lips a perfect heart shape form. I long to kiss them and feel their softness and warmth against me. He leans into me and presses his mouth against mine. I part my lips under the pressure of his, and his tongue slides into my mouth. Softly exploring me, raking over my teeth, twirling around my tongue. His arms draw me in, a little bit closer, and I sigh against him.

I’m home again.

In his arms I’m always home.

We break off the kiss and Isak comes to stand next to me. Together we watch the lights shimmer.

“So, when do you want to get married?” Isak asks, his hand taking mine, he softly brushes his thumb over it.

“Tomorrow,” I reply.

He laughs. “Good one. Maybe in December though? I’d like a December wedding.”

“The 21st then,” I say. “Then the date will be 2021-12-21. That’s perfect.”

“It’s perfect,” he agrees. “And we’ll have time to prepare. Because, seriously now, I don’t want you to spend hours on this wedding while you should be focusing on your final project for your studies.”

“I know,” I say softly. I turn my head to look at him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m extremely motivated to get this movie done. It’ll be done in June and then we’ll still have six months for planning. Not that it’s going to take that long. We’ll serve mini-burgers and cheese toasties with cardamom. It’ll be easy!”

He looks out of the window and then back to me. “I’m in for that,” he smiles and pulls me close. Our lips touch once more. I feel the warmth of it and the comfort, wrapping my arms around him.

The kiss deepens and soon Oslo and the view are forgotten. The passion is ignited now. We kiss, push and pull at each other. Hands exploring, sliding under our clothes, pushing the fabric away impatiently. Want more, make love. Need him. God, I need him.

And I can’t believe he said yes and he’s going to be mine, like really mine. And I am going to be his. Although I’ve always been his, from the moment I laid eyes on him. That has never changed over the years. Despite everything else that has happened in my rollercoaster life.

The ups and downs, he’s been there with me. Steady as a rock, as I crashed over him like the waves during spring tide.

We land on the bed together. Rapidly undressing ourselves. Isak’s on top of me now, kissing my jaw, my neck, my throat. His lips and teeth grazing over my collarbone and my shoulder and down over my chest.

He pinches my nipple between his thumb and index finger while his lips are softly sucking my other nipple. It makes me crazy. His touch sets me on fire. My angel, my love, my world. He’s my everything.

He travels down now, his tongue twirling over my abdomen, my belly button. Down, down, down. He kisses my inner thigh. His hand sliding between my butt cheeks and the next thing I feel is his finger as he’s pressing it slowly inside of me, making me arch my back. His lips are on my cock now. Trailing kisses over it, while his finger pushes further in. My breathing accelerates. I’m gasping for air as Isak takes me in his mouth.

My angel, my love, my world.

I love him so much.

He’s sucking me, first soft but then firmer while his finger is still in me. And I’m ascending. Enthralled, enchanted. The feel of him is all that exists now. Slowly the coiling in my belly starts to explode, it builds up with every sucking motion Isak makes. Until I finally cry out his name and fall apart in pure bliss.

I don’t want to be a cliché, but it’s fucking heaven.

He’s bringing me to heaven. My angel.

When I come down from my high he’s hovering over me, pressing his lips against mine.

“Was that any good, Mr. Valtersen?” he asks me and I laugh.

“It was amazing,” I reply.

My arms wrap around him and I pull him close. Our lips crash against each other. We kiss for what seems like a long time. Stroking and nibbling and immensely enjoying the feel of each other, the love for each other.

I feel his erection against my inner thigh, he thrusts into my body. The movement is enough for the anticipation building inside of me. I want him. Want him inside of me.

I reach for the bottle of lube and the condoms, which are in my bag on the floor. “You’ve come prepared,” Isak states as he sees what I’m doing.

I smile at him as I pull a condom free from its wrapping paper with my teeth. In a quick motion I wrap it around Isak. He’s gasping at the touch. Then I hand him the lube. He pumps some of it in his hand and once more reaches between my butt cheeks.

There we go.

His finger enters me again. It feels so damn good, his finger inside of me. Yet for now it’s not enough for me. I want him. Want him inside of me and make him come. Enter me and stay there.

I raise my legs, and the next thing I feel is his tip pressed against me. He looks at me and I nod. Go, go! And he goes. Slowly, really slowly, careful not to hurt me. Like he always is. And I love him so much for it.

He’s entering me now. And yes, it’s painful. But it’s also weirdly and wonderfully fantastic and amazing. To be loved by him like this. To make love like this. He’s moving now, slowly thrusting inside of me. Making me moan, making me float, making me soar.

I love him.

His hand reaches between us and his slender fingers wrap around my dick, slowly stroking over my length. I’m gasping his name between breaths. “Isak…”

He speeds up his movement and I move with him, meeting his thrusts. We move together, are one together. Will be one forever now.

There was a time when I thought that the only way to have something forever was by losing it. I know now that this is not true. I can have Isak forever and keep him. Like now. We are together now. I’m not losing him, not by far. He’s with me, my angel, with me all the way.

Bringing me to heaven.

His fingers around me bring me to a second orgasm. And he follows me straight after, shooting his release in me. I squeeze my eyes closed as I feel him slide out of me and then he’s in my arms. His face buried in my neck. “I love you,” I hear him whisper and I smile. My arms tightly wrapped around him.

Isak. My fiancé.

Life is perfect at the moment. And I’m reveling in it, allowing myself to be happy with my angel in my arms.

It hasn’t always been perfect and it won’t always stay perfect. I know that. But that’s okay. I’ve learned to use the pain I’ve experienced as fuel. It gives me strength. And I know I’m strong.

I know I can fight my inner demons and not give up. August Wilson once said: “Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.”

And he’s singing. My angel. Singing happiness. Whispering words of love in my ear. And I draw strength from his love, every day, more and more. Up we go. Always moving forward, further, higher, even when I’m down. We go up.

Until one day we’ll reach heaven and stay there.

ALT ER LOVE


End file.
